The Ghost of You
by M.Kena
Summary: Another new summary, same story: Sam and Dean are hunters. But their whole lives they’ve been hunted, preyed upon, running. Running from one thing. Destiny. What happens when they can’t run anymore? AU. PART TWO HAS BEGUN.
1. Ch 1: Breathing in Sequence

**A/N:** So, yeah… while I was writing Payback for the Prank Master, this just came out. (The four pages I mentioned deleting) And now here it is! So, technically its all on its own, but events mentioned in my other stories (My Hands, Sesame Street and Make Believe, A Child No More, and Payback for the Prank Master, as well as The Bandage Cuts Me Deeper) may be mentioned. It doesn't rely upon those other stories, but characters may be mentioned (ie. Timmy Walker or Marie) So yes, you may want to read those, and hey! Leave a review there too!

**Warning:** Dark, that's about all I can say. AU, I guess. Spoilers for everything and yet, maybe for nothing at all. Rated T for maybe some language and gruesome imagery.

**Disclaimer:** This is just for fun, I make no money and everything the WB had copywrited, I have placed no claim on. The lyrics are from My Chemical Romance's "The Ghost of You"

**Summary:** _(Not exactly sure where I want to go with this yet, so its definitely a work in progress)_ Sam and Dean are hunters. But their whole lives they've been hunted, preyed upon, running. Running from one thing. Destiny. What happens when they can't run anymore?

_**Be kind, review. If I get some good feedback I will post again. Flames are not appreciated, but constructive criticism is. **_

**The Ghost Of You**

**© M.Kena**

I never said I'd lie and wait forever  
If I died, we'd be together  
I can't always just forget her  
But she could try

At the end of the world  
Or the last thing I see  
You are  
Never coming home  
Never coming home  
Could I? Should I?

And all the wounds that are ever gonna scar me  
For all the ghosts that are never gonna catch me

**Chapter One; Breathing in Sequence  
**

_Sam dreamt most nights. They were never good dreams. Well… hardly ever good dreams. He had this one, a dream that lasted all night. He could wake up anytime, but it would come back the moment he fell asleep again. _

_An epic, dark dream. _

_He was the monster in this dream, and everyone who meant anything to him died. Most of the time at his own hand. He'd become paranoid in his dream. He was positive there was this woman behind it all… well she looked like a woman. _

_The funny thing about this woman… girl? Was that she grew as he grew. The dream started to appear when Sam was five, and the girl was five. Now that Sam was twenty two, she was twenty two. _

_In the latest installment Sam found himself in a town that was out to get him. He'd been separated from Dean, and was trying to find clues to their family mystery. Who, or what, had killed their mother. _

_He rounded a corner, seeing two men dressed in long, black robes, and hid in a small niche. Once they had passed he stepped out and was seized by the shoulders by another, identical, man in robes. _

_"What are you doing here?" He whispered urgently. "Are you crazy? They've got a price on your head. Everyone is looking for you. You're in no condition to fight." _

_It was at that moment that Sam would realize how injured he was. He would see the blood for the first time, feel it weighing down his shirt. He could feel the cuts, the fire of them, all over his skin. And he could feel the ache in his bones, the tenderness of his muscles. _

_"I… I…" Was all he could say. _

_"You've got to leave, its suicide coming her after the damage you and Dean…" _

_"Where is Dean?" He'd ask. The man would look at him sympathetically. _

_"Dear boy, I must get you someplace…" _

_"You there!" Someone would yell. And in an instant the dream could become a nightmare. The color of the world turned red and Sam knew he was in trouble. The man in the dark robe, the friend, would become an enemy to save his own skin. _

_The man would grab Sam, jamming something hard into his chest. The world would blur, and he would fall. _

_He never remembered hitting the ground. _

_He would wake up in a room, tied up and gagged. Pacing back and forth in front of him was that girl with the short blonde hair, a knife in her hands. He never saw her face; it was always hidden in the shadows. _

_"What do you want with me?" The question was always the same. _

_"Me? Personally, nothing." She would say. "But, Father, well, he wants a lot with you." _

_"Where is my brother?" _

_"Don't worry about him, Sam." She'd say gently. She'd touch his face lovingly. "I can't wait until I find you." She'd whisper. "So I can have you to myself. I'd only need a few minutes…" she'd shiver and laugh heartily. "I watch you sometimes, Sam. You've got so much power, you don't even have an idea. Daddy does, but Daddy is afraid of you." _

_"Your father is a coward." Sam would cry, struggling against his bonds. Hoping, just maybe there'd be a way out. She'd laugh again and the sound would dash all his hopes. _

_"Not my Daddy, Sam." She'd explained and kneel in front of him, putting her face close to his. He'd turn away and she'd pressed her lips to his ear. "Yours." She'd whisper and he'd feel her tongue touch his earlobe and he'd jerk away. "Don't be like that, baby." She'd put her hands high on the inside of his thighs. "When we find you, I'll be all yours." She'd move them higher and Sam would swallow nervously. "You know you want it." _

_With those words the ropes would be gone and he'd grab her, pushing her roughly to the ground. She'd hit her head and lose consciousness. _

_And suddenly Sam would realize the room resembled an old business office. Just like a cubical he used to see on all those T.V. shows. God, that seemed like such a long time ago. A lifetime ago. _

_He'd leave the cubical, walking silently just as his father had taught him, with constant checks at his back. _

_Around the next corner would be a surprise. A man in a robe, holding a large gun. The man would look shocked at first, amazed to actually be seeing him. To be seeing Sam. _

_Then he'd open fire. _

_It would take two bullets to get Sam moving, one to the arm and another to the chest. The one to his chest would puncture his lung and he'd known instantly that he was going to die, and soon. _

_But that wouldn't stop him from running into the nearest "cubicle" room and shutting the door. He'd push the nearest file cabinet in front of the door and sit there, gasping, weak from blood loss. _

_"Aw, baby, why do you have'ta be like that?" The girl would coo. He'd open his eyes and she'd be there, sitting in front of him, her face still hidden by shadow. "They hurt you." And then she'd be ripping off his shirt, Sam too weak to fight, and then she'd place her hand over the wound and with a flash of pain that made his back arch, it would be gone. "There, all better." But she didn't ever give him another shirt and he'd spend the rest of the dream without one. _

_"How did you…" _

_"When we find you, you'll be able to learn too." She'd explain and kiss him gently. _

_And before Sam could develop the plan, he'd be deepening the kiss, pushing her back towards the couch in the corner of the room. The couch right under the window… _

_They'd fall on the couch, lost in a passionate kiss and she'd grab his hand suddenly. _

_"This is what we're meant for, you know." She'd whisper. "Our child…" But she'd stop suddenly and smile. "Aw, Sammy, this will be your first time with anyone but her." _

_"Yeah." He'd whisper, trying to kiss her again, figuring out his escape plan as he went. _

_She'd remove her shirt, and play with Sam's belt buckle. He'd take it off and… light bulb! _

_He'd grab her wrists, held them together and tied them together with the belt. _

_"Sam!" She'd scream, but he'd cover her mouth and then carry her to a closet and throw her inside, pushing another file cabinet in front of it for good measure. _

_After he escapes out the window, Sam would always run to the Impala. He wasn't sure how he knew where it was, he just always knew. The keys would be there and when he started to drive, he knew where to go. _

_"You're too late, you know." Her voice would come to him, accompanied by a sharp pain in his head that made him nearly run off the road. "My men have been there all ready. They're dead." _

_"No!" Sam didn't know who he was crying for, he'd just cry. _

_"And when they died, Samuel, they saw you as the perpetrator." She laughed. "When Dean gave his last breath, it was you that told him he was worthless and alone." _

_And suddenly she'd be in the seat next to him. _

_"You can't stop this Sam. It will be. No matter what you do in your waking life, your dreams always lead you here." She'd explain, her face serious and her voice monotone. "Father will have you. You will come to us. Or we will take you." _

_"Go to hell." Sam would yell and turn sharply, causing her to fall against her door. And then, faster than he knew he could move, he'd reach over and open the door, letting her fall out of the moving vehicle. _

_He'd straighten out Dean's baby and drive off. _

_He'd drive until he reached a gravel driveway. He'd get out there and run, to where he didn't know, his legs just moved. _

_His legs would lead him to the doorstep of a coral colored house high in the woods. He'd be sweating, panting and exhausted, but he'd still run up to the door, knock once and then kick the door in when there was no immediate answer. _

_And then, for the first time in the dream, everything would just stop. _

_Sam would take in the blood on the walls. He would take in the blood on the floor. He would take in the blood everywhere. The smell would make him gag. The sight would turn his stomach. And the sound would make him cry. _

_"Sammy…" He'd never heard so much pain and anguish in one word. He'd never known so much fear. He'd never known so many tears. _

_But he knew that voice. _

_He knew, he just knew, that it was Dean. _

_He'd jump over the bloody, overturned couch and land at Dean's side. He'd take one look and know that whatever he said now would have to be their goodbye. _

_Sam would grab his big brother's bloody and broken hand. "Dean." He'd croak, his throat constricting around the words "I love you". _

_"You have… you have to fight…" Dean would whisper, his own blood choking him. "Don't let them… take you…" Sam would sob as he'd watch his brother—his glassy eyes no longer focusing, his body arching with each forced breath, his face contorted in agony—try desperately to hang onto the one roll he'd always known; big brother. _

_"I will." Sam would promise, pressing his forehead to his brother's. "Dean I am so sorry, I should have been here. I should have stopped it. Please…" _

_"I have faith… in you… Sammy." Dean would whisper. "I… love you." _

_"Oh God, Dean, I love you too." _

_And then, the world would turn blue and Sam knew his brother was gone. _

_"NO!" Sam would scream and lift his brother's broken body, hugging him to his chest. "Dean…" _

_"This could have been avoided." The girl would whisper in his ear. "If only you'd come the first time." _

_"The first time?" Sam would yell bitterly, rocking his brother's still body. He could still feel some of Dean's warmth. "What the hell are you talking about?" _

_"You'll know, Sammy." _

_Then she would be gone. _

_And the light within Sam would disappear soon. _

_He'd be alone. _

_And he'd have no strength to fight the darkness crawling at him from every corner. _

_He'd hold Dean closer, close his eyes, and let it take over._

- - -

Sam woke with a start, flying into a sitting position and gasping loudly. It took two seconds and lots of panicked eye searching for him to figure out where he was.

The dark motel room.

The _empty_ dark motel room.

His eyes scanned the bed where Dean _should_ have been.

Dean was _not_ there.

Sam waited for his eyes to register to the dark. Once he was sure he could walk around without stubbing his toe on everything in his path, he moved away the bed sheets and got to his feet.

His legs felt like rubber and for a minute he thought he and the floor were going to have a nice meeting. But his rubber appendages proved steady enough to carry him to the bathroom.

Sam hated being sweaty. He hated the little beads that clung to his skin and how it made him feel sticky. He hated when his clothes clung to the moister and he felt suffocated in his casing.

He ran his hand over the back of his sweaty neck. All he wanted to do was dive into a bath full of ice. Shock the dream out of his system and get rid of this sweat.

While he knew he should be concerned about Dean and where he was, he couldn't stop focusing on the sweat dripping down his back, making his craggy gray tee-shirt adhere to his body awkwardly.

He turned on the shower and watched distastefully at the dingy white bottom of the bath as the water that washed over it took on an orange tinge.

_"Mosta the shower heads are rusted an' there is a bad calcium build up in the wells. Drink from the water coolers an' let the water run a few before you take a shower." _

Sam heeded the motel clerk's advice and turned to the mirror while he waited for clean water to spurt from the old shower head.

God, he looked like a panda. Or at least that's what Jess would have told him.

Jess.

He couldn't even think her name without his heart constricting.

He put his hands on the counter, flat on the tile surface, one on each side of the sink and leaned against it, his eyes closed, his head hung in deep remembrance.

_"You sneak." She whispered, her arms slipping around his trim waist from behind him. She stood on her tip toes so she could place her chin on his shoulder. He turned his face and she tilted hers so they could almost see each other. _

_Almost see each other._ Sam smirked bitterly. He'd seen her. It was her who'd never seen him. He'd tucked himself away those four years. Maybe not his whole self, but a big freaking portion. Tucked it away, stashed it, never planned on letting it out ever again. But the lock and key it was under went up in flames with his heartbreakingly beautiful girlfriend.

_"What'd I do?" He asked innocently, stirring their dinner with a wooden spoon. She let her finger splay out against his hard stomach. He got goosebumps as she let her hand go closer and closer to his belt. _

_"You didn't tell me it was your birthday." She explained, nibbling on his ear. "I have a very special present…" She elaborated in his ear. _

_Sam turned off the stove, dropped the spoon and turned around. She walked backwards, beckoning him seductively. _

_"But you must work for it." She explained. Sam raised his eyebrows. _

_"I shouldn't have to work on my birthday." He argued. She smiled and shrugged. _

_"It's easy work, Samantha." She teased. "Now, stop being a girl and come here." She taunted. Sam walked up to her, looking down into her enchanting eyes. Her arms slowly snaked around his neck and he reached down, his hands running up the curves of her thighs and lifted her up. Her legs wrapped around his waist and they were lost in a passionate kiss. _

Sam's stomach gave a sudden lurch and he fell to his knees in from of the porcelain toilet. He heaved the contents of last night's dinner—hamburger, hold the pickle, fries and a lemonade with way too much sweeter thanks to Dean—into the toilet.

After a few dry heaves, Sam reached up and flushed, his closing eyes waving a last goodbye to the food that had never quite settled right in the first place. Sam rolled off the toilet and settled his back against the side of the bathtub.

He drew his knees to his chest, resting his arms on top, letting one of them jut out messily, and let his head come to a rest on the pyramid of Sam.

_Sam bumped into the bedroom door and Jessica broke the kiss to laugh. He growled at her and commenced with the kissing once more, though her giggles were intensified by the archaic snarl. _

_Sam was not a good growler. _

_He fell back on the bed, once his thighs hit the frame and he knew there would be a bed underneath him to fall on. Jessica straddled his waist, pinning his hands above his head. He smiled, stuck in a trance, as she worked his shirt over his abs with her teeth. He laughed when she had to let go of his hands to get it over his head. _

_"You're an animal." He whispering jokingly. She let her lip curl in a surprisingly attractive imitation of a vicious animal. She let out a hiss and Sam wanted her even more. _

The shower was making a hissing noise and Sam lifted his head. The room was steaming up.

How long had he been lost on memory lane?

He got to his rubbery appendages once more and peeled off his sweaty shirt, letting it fall to the ground. He stripped off his boxers and carefully got into the shower, snapping the curtain closed.

It was amazing how water could soothe and times. He closed his eyes, turning his face and the shower head and let the water pelt his forehead.

It was hotter than he would have liked it, but reaching down those few inches to turn it to a more comfortable temperature seemed like the equivalent to climbing Everest. No way, no how.

_"I love you." Her soft voice traveled through his mind and into his heart… into his soul. Those words entered him the way no words had ever entered him before. The wrapped around his being and left him feeling warm, safe and most of all, loved. _

_It wasn't that he'd never felt loved when he was with Dean and John. He knew father and brother loved him. He knew. But it was just so damn good to hear someone finally say it. _

_"I love you, too." He whispered. _

It was the most honest he'd ever been with someone besides his "team". He'd never allowed himself to get close to anyone until this moment. Until this moment he'd never envisioned himself with an 'apple pie' life. He didn't see the wife and kids. He didn't see the white house with blue shutters and a picket fence.

Instead he saw pain. He saw death. He saw fire.

He saw nothing.

With Jessica he saw everything.

And once you've had everything, you can never settle for anything less.

But that is exactly what he'd learned to do. He was settling for Dean, an emotionally challenged brother with a hero complex, a compulsively absent father on a mission for revenge, and these half-assed visions and lame-assed telekinetic powers.

In less than a year he had gone from a normal twenty two year old with a girlfriend-soon-to-be-fiancée, a solid chance at Stanford and a law degree to a spook hunting freak with a freaky brother with a death wish and freaky powers and freaky dreams and…

In a nutshell, he went from an absolute dream to an absolute nightmare.

- - -

Yeah, he'd killed it. He'd saved Sam. But he still felt like a complete and total failure. It never should have been alive after that night. How many little kids were dead because of him? Why couldn't he pull the trigger that night?

How many big brothers were sitting alone in their rooms, lost because they didn't have their little brother to watch over, to tuck in, to check for the monster in the closet, or to be their best friends?

Sam had always been Dean's best friend, his only real friend. Unless you wanted to count Timmy Walker… but look how that had turned out.

"Hey cutie, you look like you've got something on your mind." She was cute, but that could have been the alcohol talking. She put her hand on his arm. "You okay?" She asked honestly. "You've been here a long time, and you keep drinking."

"I've had a bad few days." Dean admitted hoarsely. She frowned.

"Here, where are you staying?" She asked, grabbing for his keys. He grabbed her wrist roughly.

"Don't." He snapped. She dropped them and he dropped her wrist. "Just, don't."

"Sorry." She said angrily. "I didn't want you to get in a car accident." She muttered. "Good luck driving." She rolled her eyes and then walked away.

Dean grabbed his keys and got up, not completely sure if his legs were going to support him. He felt numb. Everywhere except for his heart, that is.

He staggered out of the bar, attracting eyes. He had a feeling those eyes weren't watching him because he was so cute. No, he was that guy. That lonely drunkard who was probably going to kill himself, or worse, someone else, driving home.

A wall slammed into him. He wanted to yell at the bar owner for putting a wall right there. Who put a wall where a door should have been? Come on.

"The door is over there, buddy." Someone said with a laugh. "Have a few?"

"Shut up, Chuckles." Dean grumbled and walked towards the door, a grimace of determination on his face.

It was amazing that he made it to his car, or what he assumed was his car, without falling. He leaned against the door, resting his arms on the roof and placing his heads on the top of his arm-pillow.

He was so tired.

A hand fell on his shoulder.

"Get off me." Dean growled. The hand faltered, but didn't move from his shoulder. Dean raised his head. "I mean it, buddy." He turned around and was slammed back against the car, a hand pressing against his throat.

In a surprised, drunken panic, Dean raised his hand to his throat, tugging uselessly at the hand that was cutting off his precious oxygen.

"You have to let him go." The man whispered. His had a hat pulled down low, and Dean couldn't exactly see his face. He had a short but thick beard on his lower face. He wasn't short, but he wasn't tall. He had a strong build with strong shoulders.

"Wh…" Dean tried to ask, but ending up gagging and trying harder to take in a deep breath. His eyes were bulging and he knew he was going to pass out soon.

"Sam." The man whispered. "If he doesn't go, everything will be worse, much worse. If you let him go, you'll have a chance to get him back. If you fight, you'll lose and there will be no hope." He let go of Dean's neck and the hunter slumped to his hands and knees, gasping. "Remember, it always seems darkest before the light."

Dean looked up, a hand around his sore neck… but the man was gone.

He struggled to his feet, his legs even shakier than before. He got into the car and sat there for a minute. His childish nervosas got the best of him and he locked the doors and checked the back seat. For what? He didn't know. But a man had just come out of nowhere, nearly choked him to death and then disappeared.

Not the mention the fact that he seemed to know who they were and had just told Dean to let go of his brother. _"It always seemed darkest before the light."_ What the hell?

Dean threw the car into reverse and backed out of the parking spot, threw it into drive before he had completely stopped, and then tore off towards the hotel room.

- - -

Sam shut off the shower. Just as he stepped out of the steam box he heard the Impala pull into the hotel parking lot.

He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist. He ran a hand through his wet hair, messing it around a little bit, shaking loose some of the water.

The door flew open and Dean staggered in. Sam stopped in his tracks, panic welling in his chest. But he relaxed when he realized Dean was just drunk.

Wait. Drunk? Anger replaced the panic. Now was not the ideal time to get tipsy, Dean you moron.

"Where the hell have you been?" Sam growled. Dean rolled his eyes and flopped down on the bed. "Dean?"

"Where do you think, Sam?" He asked, his face smothered into the dirty bedspread.

"Well, I can smell the smoke and alcohol from here. So I'll take a wild guess." He crossed his arms over his chest. "So, how many drinks did you have? Should I be worried? Because that last time you got smashed I…"

"I remember, Sam. You don't have to bring it up." Dean interrupted, lifting his head. "I made a mistake, okay, I'm sorry."

"You will be in the morning." Sam grumbled and tossed his bag on the bed and riffled through it.

Sam could feel Dean watching him, but he ignored the hot gaze, focusing on his clothes. Every second under Dean's eyes made Sam angrier and angrier until his frustration hit boiling point. "What Dean? What?" Sam yelled, throwing his hands in the air. Dean flinched at the sudden volume and anger, but didn't falter when he answered.

"When we kill it… the demon, I want you to go back to school." He said simply and got up to kick off his jeans.

In the silence of Sam's reply, Dean peeled back the sheets and climbed into the bed. "G'night Sam."

Sam—it was a wonder his towel was still wrapped around his trim waist—let his long legs carry him to the side of Dean's bed. He yanked the covers back, Dean immediately drawing his knees to his chest and groaning.

"Dude! I'm cold and exposed." Dean cried and reached down for the sheets, but Sam knocked his hand away. "What the hell is your problem, man?"

"My problem?" Sam yelled. "What the hell is your problem? You just pulled a complete three sixty on me, Dean. Back in Chicago I know you didn't want me to leave, what the hell changed, huh?"

"What's the difference? You're getting what you want!" Dean yelled back, sitting up. "Now shut the hell up and give me the sheets back, my head is killing me."

"What changed, Dean?" Sam asked stiffly.

"Nothing changed, Sam." Dean explained. "I just want you to be happy. I don't want you to hate me in twenty years because I took you away from school, away from your life, away from Jessi…"

Sam could have sworn it was someone else's fist that connected with Dean's face.

The impact of the punch was enough to force Dean to his side, he sat up, his jaw held in his hand, his eyes full of surprised tears—merely a reaction, not from the pain—and his face in a deep grimace.

The silence was thick, threatening to choke them both as it settled into their chests—into their hearts.

Sam spoke first, shaking out his fist. "Dean, I didn't…"

"Whatever, Sam." Dean whispered, pulling the sheets back to his neck and closing his eyes.

Sam sighed and walked back over to his suitcase, throwing concerned glances at his brother.

_Why do you have to be such a dick, Sam?_ He asked himself.

_Why did you have to mention her name, Dean?_ The eldest scolded himself as he pretended to sleep.

- - -

_Sam kicked open the swinging door and hurried into the room, dead weight in his arms. No, not dead, just unconscious. _

_"You've got to help him!" Sam cried, trying desperately to hold on to his brother. They were both covered in dirt, sweat and blood. Whose blood, Sam didn't even know anymore. _

_The man in the black hood stood from his table, shooing away his wife and young daughter. "Put him here." He cleared off the table with a wave of his hand. Sam eyed him warily, still unsure of his "powers". _

_"It lies within you too, Samuel. And the sooner you except your fate, the sooner we shall all be at peace." _

_Sam laid Dean down on the oak wood table. _

_"Serena, get a pillow and some blankets!" The man yelled, straightening Dean's arms and legs. The older brother let out a pained moan, his head rolling side to side. _

_"Sammy…" He whispered, his eyes still shut tightly. Sam stood at the head of the table so that the top of Dean's head was against his stomach. He put his hands on Dean's face. _

_"Dean, I'm here. Everything is going to be okay." Sam whispered, stroking his forehead. He walked around the side of the table in case Dean decided to open his eyes so he wouldn't have to strain to look up. _

_"What happened?" The man asked, cutting away the torn tatters of Dean's shirt. Sam looked down for a fraction of a second, his stomach flipping and flopping and tightening at the sight. _

_Jesus. How was his brother even still alive? He couldn't tell where there was skin and where there was blood and another tissue. _

_He ignored the man's question and instead focused on Dean's face, his beautiful disaster of a face. This couldn't really be Dean. Not this batter and broken shell. No, Dean was always smiling, cracking inappropriate jokes, being an ass… not lying limply on a table whimpering pathetically. It couldn't be. Not really. _

_"No!" Sam slammed one fist on the table, the other grabbing a handful of Dean's jacket. _

_The room shuttered, the lights flickered and all the contents on the surrounding tables or shelves were thrown to the floor. The man stopped what he was doing and raised his eyes to the powerful man in front of him. _

_But all Sam noticed were Dean's eyes, how they were opening slowly. He grabbed Dean's face, forcing Dean's unfocused eyes upon Sam's own face. _

_"Look at me, you bastard." Sam demanded. "Damn it Dean! You selfish piece of crap, look at me!" And Dean did. He raised his eyes to his brother's face, he arched his back as he swallowed, attempting to speak. To apologize. To comfort. To be a big brother. "Don't you dare, don't you dare do this…" _

_"Samuel, maybe you shouldn't…" The man suggested softly, his haggard hand falling on Sam's bent forward shoulder. _

_"Shut up! Shut the hell up!" Sam yelled, whirling around to look at his mentor, his savior, his destroyer. The man flew back against the wall, but Sam was too grief stricken to realize he had just used his powers. _

_"Sam…" A weak groan. Sam focused his attention back to his dying brother. Oh God. Dean was dying. He was so pale, his breath came in shallow labored rasps, and he was sweating but shivering from cold at the same time. _

_"You listen to me, Dean." Sam sobbed, not giving a damn that his voice broke and was nothing more than a whisper, it was the words that mattered now. He grabbed his brother's face again, lifting it off the table slightly. "Don't you dare give up on me. Not now." Not ever. Sam closed his eyes against the tears and let his head fall down upon Dean's chest. "God damn it Dean, don't do this. I need you man." _

_Dean lifted his hand slightly, just enough to touch the closest part of his brother, which just happened to be the back of his upper thigh. Sam turned and grasped the had-to-be-broken hand softly and smiled. _

_"Dude, you just grazed my ass." Sam whispered and gave a soft encouraging squeeze. He almost leapt with joy when he got one in return. _

_"Sammy, I'm sorry… I can't…" Dean mumbled. Sam shook his head, running one hand over Dean's forehead. _

_"Shh, shut up." Sam whispered. "You can, you can hold on. You're going to. I'm going to be right here. Fight Dean. Please?" _

_"Samuel…" A woman's voice whispered. Sam looked up. She was lovely, young with long white blonde hair. She looked like an angel. All she was missing was the wings and halo. Or wait, maybe that's what that light over her was, her halo. _

_"Put it under his head, Serena." The man instructed. She nodded, and lifting Dean's head, sliding a black pillow under his head. "Water, bandages and coffee." He said, smiling at Sam. "And a chair for Samuel." _

_It seemed to Sam that he was instantly sitting in a chair, with a steaming cup of coffee and a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Dean's body covered in bandages, his chest rising and falling slowly, but steadily, his face still pale, though no longer sweating or shivering. _

_The man walked in with a cup of lukewarm water. "Do you want to make him drink, or should I?" _

_"Don't touch him." Sam ordered calmly. The man nodded, a gentle smile on his face, and nodded. _

_"I won't." He promised and set the cup on the table where Dean still lay. "Samuel, you must except this…" Sam shook his head. _

_"Shut up." Sam whispered. But the man was persistent. _

_"If you don't turn yourself in, he will die. They won't stop until they cut all your ties to this world." He explained. _

_"Shut up!" He said a little louder, closing his eyes and placing his head in his hands. _

_"You're killing him, Samuel." _

_"I said shut up!" Sam got to his feet and jarred the table. Dean groaned and Sam's anger quickly turned to concern. "Oh, Jesus, Dean I'm sorry." Sam whispered and put a hand on Dean's cheek. "Hey, it's okay. You're fine. Go back to sleep." Sam reached out for the cup. "You thirsty?" _

_Dean gave a weak nod and Sam lifted the cup to his lips. "Slow sips, Dean." He whispered. Almost half the cup was gone before Dean broke into a coughing fit. Sam pulled the cup away and gently rubbed Dean's back. "Shh, you're okay." _

_"Samuel, may I see you in the other room?" The man asked. Sam put the cup down, gently pushed Dean back down and pulled the blanket up to his neck. He gave Dean's shoulder a loving squeezed and followed the man into the other room. _

_"What?" He asked rudely. The man had saved his brother, but he couldn't help but feel some sort of hate towards him. _

_The man grabbed Sam's hand, pressing something into his palm. "You must understand, Samuel. It has to be this way. You must lose him." Sam yanked his hand back and looked at the bottle in his hand. _

_The bottle of rat poison. _

_The bottle of rat poison he had just fed to his brother. _

_"Dean!" Sam yelled and the room began to tip. _

_No. _

_Oh God. _

_Dean… _

_Sam froze in the entry way. Dean's back was arched painfully, white foam spewing from the corners of his mouth, his hands pawing at his chest. _

_He couldn't breathe._

_He was dying. _

_Sam ran to his side, tears streaming down his face. He wrapped his brother in a hug, tightly to his chest. _

"_Dean, I am so sorry." He sobbed, pressing his face in Dean's sweat soaked hair. "I love you. I love you so much. I'm sorry. I'll take the pain away." He promised. He placed his hand flat on Dean's back. "Goodbye." _

_Then using the powers he had fought against so hard. He killed his brother._

- - -

TBC…

So, feedback is good. Ideas, better. Long reviews with lots of constructive criticisms, best. And I like compliments as well. : ) So please, if you read, I'd like a review.

GRACIAS!

XOXO—your writer: Kena


	2. Ch 2: Dead in The Water

A/N: I should have mentioned, the end of the first chapter, where Dean died, was a dream. Sorry to anyone who got confused.

Another A/N: So, yeah, this is definitely AU now.

Another Another A/N: Okay, twenty of you put this on an alert, I got eleven reviews. Not to mention, I got many hits, very few reviews. That discourages me. I have the next chapter written and if I get a lot of reviews, I might post it in the next few days.

Warning: Hmm… none really. Oh, and this chapter gets very… confusing. I'm trying to straighten it all out because it makes perfect sense to me because all the holes in the storyline are of course in my head. So, please, if there is something I don't answer, ask me and I will answer or possibly have it revealed later on. : )

Disclaimer: I said it once before and I shall say it again, I don't own the boys or anything else the geniuses at the WB lay claim to. Everything else, I shall call my own.

Oh, and save our show! Go to E- Online and click on Watch with Kristen and send her an email with Supernatural as the subject and perhaps a few lines on why you love it so much! It's on the fence!

The song is by Hawthorn Heights… and has nothing to do with the Supernatural episode.

**Chapter Two; Dead In The Water**

_  
The medicine is blending in mixing the blood with oxygen  
I need this right now to figure myself out  
Cutting through the ribbons of self doubt  
I never thought you'd see me this way  
You are the worst and I am to blame _

Close the door, lock it tight  
Then I'll know you're safe tonight  
Turn on a song that means the most  
Believe I'm there and hold me close

Sam woke with a start, flying into a sitting position and gasping loudly. It took two seconds and lots of panicked eye searching for him to figure out where he was.

The dark motel room.

But this time Dean was at his side, his hand on Sam's shoulder, his eyes—though a little glazed from the hangover he had to be suffering—were full of concern. Sam reached out and grabbed a fistful of Dean's shirt and took a shaky breath.

"Bad one?" Dean whispered. Sam nodded, his eyes closed tightly.

"Oh yeah." He breathed.

"What'd you see?" Dean asked, sitting down on Sam's bed. Sam shook his head.

"It was just a dream, not one of those _dreams_."

"More of a nightmare." Dean stated, though it was sort of a question.

"Definitely." Sam nodded again, gently removing his hands from Dean's shirt.

"You want some coffee or something?" Dean asked gently. Sam nodded.

"Coffee would be great." He whispered and then fell back against the pillows. Dean nodded, looking over his brother one last time before he got to his feet and his slight falter didn't go unnoticed by the younger brother. "There's some aspirin in my…" Dean titled his head towards the table and Sam saw the open bottle, Dean had always had trouble with the child-proof lids. He could get them off; he just had issues getting them back on.

Dean dropped a cup and it shattered on the tile floor, he winced, pressing a hand to his head. Hangovers kicked ass!

"Smooth." Sam whispered. Dean glared at him and Sam sent back a cheesy smile.

"Shut it, Haley Joel." Dean muttered and bent down to pick up the shattered dishware.

The silence settled into their chests again.

"You were dreaming about me, huh?" Dean asked softly as he got out the coffee grounds. He didn't look at his brother, but Sam was wilting under his gaze.

"What are you talking about?"

"You kept yelling my name… I just assumed…"

"Yeah." Sam interrupted. "You were in it." Dean turned and smiled at him.

"Your subconscious make up any hot chicks for me to be with?" He asked with a grin. Sam couldn't help but smile back.

"There was this one, Serena… but she didn't seem to be interested."

Another cup shattered.

"Dean?" Sam asked worriedly, sitting up.

Dean let out a strangled chuckle.

"Jesus, butterfingers tonight." He forced another choked laugh. Sam started to get off the bed. "T's nothing, Sam." He muttered and picked up the new broken pieces. "I'm just shocked you would have such a nightmare." He turned around and flashed one of Sam his cocky smiles. "I mean, for me to get rejected, how unrealistic."

_You're a hell of a liar, Dean. _

"Well, dreams aren't exactly the directed result of realism." Sam muttered and got out of bed and picked up a few pieces of glass that had flown farther than Dean had realized. Sam tossed them in the sink and Dean grunted his thanks. "Shower." Sam explained.

"Coffee." Dean handed him a cup and Sam took it with a nod of thanks.

Yes, our boys are very talkative this fine morning.

- - -

Dean waited for the shower to turn on. When he heard the hiss of the water and Sam's off key hums, he walked over to the bed and sat down heavily.

God, his head hurt.

There was something wrong here. It couldn't be a coincidence; the Winchesters did not have coincidences.

Sam dreamed of Serena, there must have been a connection. Had to be a connection.

_"Who are you?" Dean gasped as he struggled for air on the ground. John was yelling incoherently behind the heavy wooden door. _

_She pressed her foot down harder on Dean's throat and he writhed beneath her expensive sling backs. _

_"That's for me to know, and for you to find out, doll face." She explained. _

_He was suffocating. Hallucinating a light above her head. God, she looked like an angel. He didn't want the girl who killed him to look so heavily. Talk about ironic. _

_The pressure on his neck ceased and he gasped in the precious air, not knowing when it would be cut off again. She squatted down on her haunches and clasped her hands between her knees, studying her catch. _

_"You're cute, you know that?" She whispered, cocking her head to the side. _

_"Serena! I know you're in there! Don't let this thing take you over!" John yelled from the other side of the door. _

_Serena… or the being inside Serena… rolled her eyes and sighed disgustedly. _

_"Shut up, gramps!" She yelled and threw her hand at the door. Dean heard a thud and a grunt. _

_John didn't speak anymore. _

_She turned back to Dean, her eyes shining with lust. "I can feel it in this body, Dean. She wants you… I want you." She licked her lower lip suggestively. Dean turned to his side, trying to drag his unresponsive lower body away from that sick bitch. _

_She laughed at his pained efforts. "Why do you have to be like that, baby?" She taunted and grabbed his ankle and was rewarded with a soft whimper. "I know I hurt you, baby, let me make it up to you." She whispered and crawled after him, easily catching up. She pined him on his back and held his shoulders in place, straddling his waist. _

_"She wants you so bad." She whispered in his ear, licking his face where the blood from his head wound had begun its small trickle towards his neck. _

_"Sorry…" Dean whispered breathlessly. "You're not really my type." _

_"What? Blonde hair, big boobs, small waist and a matching brain. Since when isn't that you're type?" She cooed and kissed his neck softly. "You'll look so good in me." She whispered. _

_Dean swallowed hard, trying to free himself from her. "You sick bitch, get the hell off me." Dean demanded, but his voice cracked when she ran her hands down his stomach. _

_"Language, baby." She scolded. "You know what happens if I kiss you, don't you?" She asked softly. _

_"Do it. I'll put a bullet in my forehead if that's what it takes to get rid of you." Dean hissed with as much venom as he could conjure. _

_She wagged a finger at him. _

_"I wouldn't allow my favorite male to do such a thing." She assured him. She leaned her face towards his and watched his lips as she spoke, gently touching them with her fingers. "Such lips, Dean." She smiled. "I bet you're a great kisser." _

_"Go to hell!" He yelled, though it came out as illogical grunts because his lips were pressed together tightly. _

_"Oh baby, I'm all ready there." She whispered and kissed him hard. _

_"Get off my son!" John yelled. _

_There was a gunshot…_

_A scream… _

_A gasp…_

_A thud…_

_Yells… _

_Cries… _

_Dean sat up. Serena was sitting on the ground, a bloody arm held tightly to her chest, her eyes cast upwards at the black cloud circling the room. _

_His eyes closed tightly as John read the spell. _

_Breathe in, breathe out. Don't pass out. Breathe in, breathe out. Don't pass out. Breathe in… _

_He passed out. _

"Dean!" Sam yelled, snapping his fingers in front of Dean's bowed head. "Dean!"

Dean jerked his head up. "What? What?" He yelled back angrily. Sam looked at him worriedly.

_The kid was dressed all ready. Jesus, how long was I out? _

"Are you okay, man?" Sam asked softly. Dean nodded, getting to his feet.

"Yeah, fine, Sam." Dean assured him meekly and walked over to the table, grabbing his jacket. "Are we going to do this thing, or not?"

- - -

This "thing" as Dean has so charmingly referred to it as, was actually a string of mysterious deaths along the Oregon Coast. Astoria, to be exact, right near Seaside.

"Remember when Dad took us to Seaside that one year?" Sam asked softly from the passenger seat. Dean smiled and nodded.

"Yeah, and we spent an hour running from the waves."

"He woke us up early to look for Sand-Dollars."

"And you cried because we couldn't find any."

"I did not cry." Sam argued. Dean laughed heartily and Sam smiled. It was good to hear Dean laugh again. He hadn't laughed in a while.

"Oh come on, Sammy. You were sobbing like a little girl."

"I was five years old and you told me that Free Willy was going to starve to death if we didn't find him enough Sand-Dollars to buy dinner." Sam explained.

"Girl." Dean coughed and stopped at the yellow light. He'd seen the way people drove, he wasn't going to risk getting his baby T-Boned.

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

"Green light." Sam explained when he heard a honking behind them. Dean started the car, silently waging a war against the Escalade next to them.

The Impala pulled out into first and Dean let out a silent cheer. His baby was still the best of the best.

"So, what do the papers say again?" Dean asked absently as he fished through his tape box—Sam still rolled his eyes at that, couldn't the man modernize and get an I-Pod maybe?—for his Blue Oyster Cult tape.

Sam unfolded the newspaper article and skimmed through for the highlighted parts. "Last Wednesday, Jennifer Ramsey, 18, was found dead in her room. There was no sign of a struggle and no exterior wounds. But upon examination by the coroner, she was found to have died of extreme internal bleeding. This is the four mysterious death of this nature in the area. The only evidence linking the four deaths is a curious sprinkle of sand over each victim's face. Is this a sick killer's signature, or is it, as some avid ghost hunters and supernaturalists claim, the work of a Sandman gone bad?"

"Dude… who the hell wrote that?" Dean asked when Sam was done reading.

"Dude," Sam mocked. "Missing the bigger picture here, Dean!" Sam sighed and looked up the journalist. "Gale Winters."

"Chick needs to go back to journalist school. You don't make a mass murder a joke. It's wrong." Dean insisted, his brow furrowed in deep thought.

"You're one to talk, oh master of credit card scams." Sam said quietly, reading over the article again. They had Gale featured as the Journalist of the hour. Sam smiled at her picture. "And I have a feeling your thoughts about her are going to change."

"Why would you say…" Sam showed him the picture. "Dude, she should win an award for that, right there." Dean said with a grin, grabbing the paper to get a better look at the picture. Sam rolled his eyes.

"What, her writing or her looks?" Sam asked.

"She writes?" Dean asked seriously.

"I don't get what girls see in you." Sam whispered. Dean grinned at him and Sam knew what retort was churning in that pot of ego and testosterone Dean called a brain. "It was rhetorical."

"I didn't say anything, Samuel." Dean reminded him as he turned left. Sam sunk down lower the seat.

"I'm physic, remember?" Sam joked. Dean's face went somber and he turned to look at his little brother.

"Dude, you read my mind and I will kill you." And Sam laughed harder than he had in a long time.

- - -

_She was eleven the first time she realized her family wasn't normal. Yes, her father worked from nine to five, her mother stayed home and raised the children. _

_The term children is used lightly. _

_And the work her father did is what set them apart from the other families on the block. _

_She killed her first enemy at the age of fourteen. Her father was her absent drill sergeant. She heard his voice coaxing her to pull the trigger. _

_A year later she learned that blood was her father's proverbial cell phone. _

_She was sixteen when she realized he was the bad guy. _

_Family loyalty. That's what kept her with him. That's what kept the knife in her hands. That's what slit those innocent people's throats so she could call in and check with Daddy. _

_She'd scour the world with her "siblings" searching for him. Searching for the one they let get away. _

_And because she loved her father without question, she never opened her mouth to ask why. _

_She watched her youngest brother die when he questioned their orders. She watched her mother cry when her children rebelled, knowing they would not be alive in the morning. _

_And she grew up in fear. _

_When she was nineteen she saw him for the first time. He was arriving at the college, exactly where her father had said he would be. She just watched him, marveling in his perfection. _

_"He will be yours, princess." _

_She smiled, a big toothy smile that lit up her young, angelic face. _

_"I know, father, I know." _

- - -

Dean laid on the horn and Sam snapped awake. Dean was laughing. "You got some drool going on there." Dean said through his laughter. Sam wiped off his face and then socked Dean's shoulder.

"Not cool."

"Don't get your panties in a twist, Sammy." Dean huffed and got out of the car. "I'ma getta room." He slurred. He must have been tired; he'd been driving eight hours straight.

Sam opened the car door, getting his legs out first and resting before he stood and stretched, his shirt lifting slightly and he shivered as the cold coastal wind danced around him.

"You can't park there." Someone huffed. He turned and a short girl was standing at the front of the car, her hands on her hips, looking at it distastefully. She had her hair hidden in a wool cap, but a few red locks were falling out in the back. She had big oversize sunglasses over her eyes and a scarf around her neck.

Okay, Sam wasn't one for fashion, but a hat and scarf with sunglasses? Kind of conflicting seasons. It wasn't like they were up on a mountain skiing or anything.

"Oh, we're just getting a room…" Sam explained, pointing at the front desk.

"Well congratulations, but move your goddamn car." She said with over the top politeness. Her chin was quivering and Sam almost mistook the gesture for anger, but then he saw the stray tear roll down her pale cheek. She turned her head away and wiped it with her gloved hand.

What the hell?

"I don't have the keys… my brother does…" Sam explained, studying her face. "Ma'am… are you okay?" She laughed.

"Chivalry is dead, you don't care. It's just a ploy to get into my pants." She snapped. "Move your car before I get back or I'll come out here and take my son's baseball bat to it." She ordered and then walked off, limping in her high heels.

Good, bitch, I hope you have terrible blisters.

Dean walked out of the main office the same time she was walking in. He flashed her a smile and made the mistake of opening the door for her. She slapped him across the face, kicked his shin, and then spit at him.

Sam couldn't hold in his chuckle when Dean walked back to the car, shaking his head in shock.

"What did I do wrong back there?" He asked, his hand rubbing at the red mark across his cheek. Sam shrugged.

"You parked in her space." He explained. Dean let a phantom of a smile cross his face.

"I'd like to park in her space…"

"And you wonder why she slapped you?"

"Hey, I kept my eyes on her face… for a while." Dean added the last part softly.

"Whatever man, move the car, give me the key."

"Move the car?" Dean asked, a confused look on his face.

"Unless you want her to come out here with her son's bat…"

Dean was in the car before he finished the sentence.

- - -

Sam opened the door to the room and tossed the key on the nearest bed. He went straight to the bathroom. A shower, not a tub shower. Good. He hated those tub showers… but not as much as Dean did. Bad experience.

When Sam was five, John had to take him and Dean on a hunt. He left them in the car of course while he investigated this haunted house.

Twenty minutes in, they heard yells from the house. Dean panicked, ran from the car into the house, Sam followed.

John Winchester was possessed. He grabbed the nine year old Dean and with one move, threw the boy against the wall and broke his collarbone.

When Sam tried to run away, John caught him and drug him to the bathroom and commenced in drowning him in a bathtub full of freezing water, but of course, John had hit little Sammy's head against the bottom, effectively cracking it open and knocking him unconscious.

Dean had managed to shake of the haze of pain and exorcized the demon inside their father, but John had lost unconsciousness and Dean couldn't lift his little brother out of the water.

He had to wait forty seven painstaking seconds for the water to drain enough so he could get his little brother's face out of the water.

Dean remembered the lack of a pulse under his fingertips the most.

Sam remembered the look on his father and his brother's faces—after John finished CPR and brought Sam back to life—the most.

So yeah, Sam was happy with a shower stall. And there were two sinks. Perfect. This was going to work.

Sam turned and was greeted by a strange, yet startlingly familiar face.

_"He's coming soon, Samuel." _

_Who? _

_"Him, Samuel. You know him." _

_Why is he coming? _

_"For you, the one that got away." _

_Dean… _

_"Will not be touched if he lets you go willingly." _

_You don't know Dean. _

_"I do. That's why I know he will die." _

_No… _

_"This won't be easy for anyone, Samuel. But if you let them take you, if you go willingly… there might be hope. Don't let Dean stop you." _

_How do I know I can trust you? _

_"You don't. There will be many people who tell you that you can trust them, many will lie. I won't say that there is no way I will betray you. Samuel, I'm a cowardly man, I may turn on you. But I'm honest, always." _

_You're really instilling some confidence here… _

_"I understand your apprehension. But its happening, it's been happening, I know you've felt it. The dreams, Samuel. They mean something." _

_I won't kill my brother… _

_"If you don't go, you will." _

"No!" Sam yelled, and the glass door to the shower shattered.

"Sam!" Dean yelled. Sam heard loud footsteps. Dean was running. "Sam!" He yelled again, pounding on the door. "I'm coming in." Sam stood there in angry silence, the glass decorating the floor, as the door swung open, Dean standing there ready to attack. "What the hell happened, Sam?" Dean yelled, grabbing his brother's shoulders and pulling him out of the bathroom.

"Dean, who is Serena?" Sam asked softly. Dean's hand involuntarily tightened around Sam's shoulders.

"I don't… know a Serena…" Not even the most gullible drunk in bar up the interstate would have believed a lie coming from a broken voice like that.

"Don't lie to me, Dean!" Sam yelled, causing the mirror next to the bathroom door to shatter, spraying pieces of glass over both of the brothers. Dean's hands fell from Sam's shoulders and he recoiled in horror, falling backwards, but landing in a chair almost like he had known it was there.

"Sam, did you…" Dean faltered, staring at the mirror—scratch that—the mirror's remains. Sam didn't answer. "How did you…"

"Answer the damn question, Dean. Who. Is. Serena?" Sam asked, grabbing a chair and placing it in front of Dean's and sitting down.

Sam recognized the look in Dean's eyes. He's seen it so rarely on his brother's face. He didn't like it there. It didn't fit. And right now, he was putting it there. Dean was scared. Dean was scared of _him_.

"Dad and I were doing a job…"

"Where?" Sam snapped. Dean looked up at him with glossy eyes. He clenched his jaw and looked down at the ground.

"Where do you think, Sam?"

"Damn it, Dean! Are you trying to get us killed?" Sam yelled, getting to his feet and kicking the table.

"Yeah, Sam, that's exactly what I'm trying to do." Dean said sarcastically and got to his feet as well. "I just thought maybe that we could take it down this time, kill it for good."

"What is it?"

"A demon."

"The demon…"

"Just a demon that got the better of us." Dean clarified. "Broke both my legs and crushed my pelvis… Dad was pretty messed up too."

"Messed up?"

"A few ribs… an arm."

"How does Serena fit into this?"

"She did it." Dean explained. Sam let out a breath of air. But she'd helped them in his dream… or maybe not… her husband had poisoned Dean. God, he was confused. "Well, she was possessed at the time. Dad shot her… killed her." Sam looked at him. "It was a freak thing, Sam. She had hemophilia. He shot her arm, just wanted to get her off me, but she bled to death."

"I dreamed about her, Dean."

"I know. But she died three years ago, Sam."

"But I dreamed about her. She was there."

"Maybe it's a different girl. Serena isn't that unusual of a name."

"She looked like she had a halo on…"

"Holy sh…" Dean sat down again. Sam did too. "I was in so much pain, I was hallucinating, but that's how I saw her. She was so pretty, angelic almost, and when it was just her, and that son of a bitch didn't have her, she was an angel." Dean looked at his brother. "When I thought I was dying, I saw her with a light overhead. I thought it was going to be a perfectly ironic way to die. Strangled by an angel." He laughed, but there was no humor there. Dean put his elbows on his knees and put his head in his hands. "What the hell is happening here, Sammy?"

Sam closed his eyes and spoke softly, "I keep having these dreams. They're… they're not like those dreams, but they mean something. There's always this man, he's always there to help, but in the end he turns on me… but I think he's our only chance."

"Our?" Anyone who might call Dean stupid had never talked to him for very long. He might take a while to anger questions and might have never read the DaVinci Code, but he was the most intuitive person Sam had ever met.

"In my dreams… you… die…" Sam explained. "You and Dad… well, I just have to assume Dad is dead. I don't really take the time to find out." Dean watched him intently, eyes telling him to continue. "I kill you. In the one I have the most, I don't get to you in time. In the one with Serena, the man tricked me into poisoning you."

"Yeah, because those deaths are completely your fault, that and Global Warming." Dean muttered. "Son of a bitch, Sam! These are just dreams, they don't mean anything… Maybe you saw a picture of Serena somewhere. I know I have one in one of my bags…" Dean got to his feet and started going through his bags, throwing clothes around.

_No. This didn't mean anything. No. No. They were just dreams. Sam wasn't seeing the future. No. No. They were just stupid, meaningless dreams. That's all. _

"The man came to me, Dean." Sam interrupted. Dean dropped the clothes in hands and his back went rigid.

"What?"

"In the bathroom, just his face. He spoke to me." Sam explained. Dean cleared his throat and turned, looking at his brother.

Sam looked like a stranger, sitting like that. His legs crossed lazily, his head perched in one hand, staring blankly at the wall. Like he was there, but wasn't _there_.

"And what did this man say?" Dean asked slowly. Sam chewed on his thumb nail for a moment before answering.

"That someone was coming for me. That I had to go or you would die." Sam explained, still staring at the wall, that same unblinking stare. Dean's entire body tensed and he shook his head. "That if we fought, you'd die and I'd still go. But if I went willingly and you let me go, we might have a chance."

"No! God damn it, no!" Dean yelled, rushing to Sam and kneeling in front of him. He put his hand on Sam's knee. "Don't give up, Sam. I know that look, you're done fighting. Don't! I'm not going to let anything take you! I don't care if I die doi…"

Sam stood up abruptly.

"You will die if you fight this time, Dean!" Sam yelled, tears working their way to the surface. "I've seen it! Over and over in my head! Every night Dean! Every goddamn night! When I wake up, I don't know if it will be real! I never know if you'll be there or if it was for real! Every night Dean it gets realer and realer, and every time it's the same thing, I needed to let you and because I held on… because I let you hold on, you died!"

Dean grabbed Sam's face with both hands, his hands resting below Sam's ears, fingers wrapping around his neck. Sam felt the calluses on Dean's thumbs brush across his soft cheek, the scratching sensation lingered.

"Listen to me." Dean voice was in a low whisper, yet intense and might as well have been booming, it was that loud in Sam's ears. "You little prick." Dean hissed. "Don't you dare. I'm a big boy Sam and I can take care of myself. I've been doing it for a hell of a long time." He took in a deep breath. "I will not. I repeat. Will _NOT_. Let some dark organization take you away. I don't care if you're their chosen one. I don't care if they say you're their blood. You're _my _brother. We're going to fight this and we're going to win, Sam. We'll find a way. No one is going to die. Except them."

"What did you say?" Sam's voice shook. Dean's eyes flickered over his face, studying him.

"A lot of really meaningful words, weren't you listening?" Dean asked, his face cracking into a smile.

"No… a dark organization… I'm their chosen one… their blood…" Sam staggered back. "You know…"

"Sam…"

"No! What do you know?"

_Oh God. Let this be another dream. _

Sam clutched his head.

_What the hell was going on? Dean knew something. He knew what was going on. Dean knew. Dean knew it all. Dean lied. Dean… _

"Sam!" Dean lunged forward.

But the floor beat him.

- - -

Okay, now, review! They make me smile. And I will post a lot sooner if I get many reviews.


	3. Ch 3: Camisado

So, yes, sorter chapter, but I figured you'd probably want it sooner and shorter, than longer and much later. Because the next part is giving me some difficulty. 

And I just want to thank everyone who reviewed. I love you for it.

And hey, if I get lots more reviews, I'll post again soon. If I get gasp thirty reviews (I know that's asking a lot) but if I get that many I will sit my ass down and crank out a chapter and get it done before this weekend when I leave for Seattle. And there are currently 34 alerts and 30 reviews… so, yeah. Some of you are being lazy. Please review, its my only form of payment.

**Warning:** Hmm… none really. Except that this is unbetaed, as is all my work. I'm a lonely rookie to the boards with no beta. hint hint Oh and this story will never be a Mary Sue zone, or a Wincest story. Just a heads up for anyone who may have been wondering.

**Disclaimer:** Do I honestly need one of these every time? This is just for kicks and giggles. I wish I owned something… but sadly I do not. The song is by Panic! At the Disco… and I just liked the song, if it somehow connects to the story, its purely by a beautiful accident.

**_Read and review. Flames are icky, but reviews make me smile for a long while: ) _**

**Chapter Three: Camisado**

_The I.V. and your hospital bed  
This was no accident  
This was a therapeutic chain of events _

This is the scent of dead skin on a linoleum floor  
This is the scent of quarantine wings in a hospital  
It's not so pleasant  
And it's not so conventional  
It sure as hell ain't normal  
But we deal, we deal

_Can't take the kid from the fight  
take the fight from the kid  
Sit back, relax  
Sit back, relapse again _

_You're a regular decorated emergency  
The bruises and contusions will remind me what you did when you wake  
_

Sam awoke when something cold and wet slid into his mouth, followed by fingertips closing his lips together. He sat up, gasping, choking. Two hard hits to his back sent the cool object back into his mouth, he bit down on it and it shattered.

Ice.

Sam opened his eyes and relaxed back against the pillows. Dean was sitting at his side, holding a cold compress on Sam's forehead and feeding him ice from a paper cup. Sam winced in the light of the room. Dean got up suddenly, watching him made Sam dizzy so he closed his eyes.

Click.

He opened them against the light in the room was much more welcoming. Dean sat down next to him again and offered him another piece of ice.

"No thanks." Sam said weakly. "What happened?"

"You blacked out." Dean whispered gently. "Thanks for telling me you were running a temperature of one hundred and two, you moron."

"One hundred and two?" Sam asked. Dean nodded angrily. "I didn't know… I… sorry." Sam said lamely.

"Yeah, you will be." Dean muttered. Sam smiled and knew the threat was empty. Dean set the cup down and sighed heavily. "Dad heard about them a little while after you left." He whispered. "I don't know, something about them, interested me, you know?" He shrugged and looked at Sam. He smiled, exhaling sharply from his nose and shaking his head in disgust. "I wasn't looking for a connection, but everything I read, man, it was just so… Winchester."

"What do you mean…?"

"The way their leader was brought into the world. Mother overhead, baptized in the blood of the vessel that carried him to his throne… or some sick…" Dean clenched his jaw tightly and balled his hands into fists. "I wanted to kill all of them. I would have. But they sent her."

"Serena?" Sam asked softly.

"She got right past us, Sam." Dean bit his lip, shaking his head again in disgusted hatred of himself. "She got right past me. Dad told me. Said she was bad news. He knew a girl like that couldn't be that innocent. She was dangerous, he told me. But I didn't listen… I didn't want to listen." Dean looked up at the ceiling as if the rest of the story was written up there. "I fell for her." He admitted slowly. "It was after Cassie so I really closed off, but she… she got in somehow…" He let his head fall forward. "Then he got in too."

"He?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, he. The demon."

"The demon?"

"Yeah, Sam. The demon." Dean nodded. "He took her over. He was trying to get to me so I could get to you and Dad. Wanted to use me to kill Dad and get you…" He sighed. "Get you to join them."

"So, Dad killed her on purpose?" Sam asked softly. Dean shook his head.

"No… the demon messed with her insides… it was an accident to kill her. She bled out too fast. And it wasn't like Dad was going to leave my side for her."

"So you didn't see her die?" Sam asked. Dean shook his head.

"I was out cold."

"Maybe she's not dead…"

"She's dead Sam." He sighed. "They have more though. Like your buckets of crazy friend Meg. She's part of it. They're all siblings of some kind. This demon is their father."

There was a long silence. Dean sat, staring at the comforter. Sam sat, staring at Dean and absently fingering the cheap fabric.

"So… why me?" Sam asked softly.

"I've asked myself that so many times." Dean whispered. "I wish I knew, Sammy. I really do. I wish I could know more than anything in the world." His voice cracked at the end of the sentence and Sam realized how close to tears he was.

"How do you even know about all this?" Sam asked.

"There's this… book…" Dean explained. "I got my hands on it for a while, read all I could before they found me. Forcefully made me return it." He said with a slight smile that disappeared as quickly as it appeared. "This demon's been around since the beginning of time. It's unstoppable." Dean closed his eyes. There. He'd said it.

"So then why the hell did you bring me here?" Sam yelled angrily.

"Because… the night before they come to get you, there is chance to beat it. There is one night, every year that it's vulnerable."

"Every year it comes for me?" Sam whispered.

"It couldn't before, Sam. Why do you think Dad moved us around so much?" Dean asked. "It could never get a steady position on you. Dad did everything he ever did for a reason."

"So… it found me at Stanford?" Sam asked. Dean looked down at his hands.

It hit Sam hard. Harder than a freaking semi truck. His chest froze and tears welled in his eyes. Dean looked up and bit his lip when he saw the realization in his little brother's eyes.

"Sam… I had to get you away…"

"Don't say it." Sam hissed.

"It was going to come for you!" Dean yelled. "What was I supposed to do? Dad came there every year that night, he was there to protect you! I didn't know what else to do! Dad disappeared on me with no instructions! I did the only thing I could…"

"You took me away knowing it was going to come! You took me from Jess, left her vulnerable…" Sam pressed his hands against his eyes. "You knew it killed Mom! Did you know it was going to kill Jessica too?" Sam yelled. When Dean didn't answer, Sam grabbed his shirt and pulled his face close. "Did you know, Dean!" Sam yelled.

"I didn't even think about it until I dropped you off that night." Dean said slowly. "Why the hell do you think I ran in there in time to pull you out?"

"Oh my God…" Sam whimpered and let go of his brother.

"Why do you think my eyes bled that night, Sam?"

"Because of Timothy Walker…" Sam whispered. Dean shook his head slowly, his face hard with grief. Sam shook his head too, his eyes watery, his eyes pleading with Dean. Don't say it. Just don't…

"I'm the reason Jessica is dead, Sam. It's my fault because I panicked and I didn't know how to protect you except to take you away. And I didn't think about her, honestly, I was just so goddamn happy to have my brother back for a while, I didn't think about your girlfriend."

"Shut up, Dean." Sam whispered. "Just stop." Sam tore the covers off and stood up, heading for the door, slipping on his shoes.

"Where the hell are you going?" Dean asked, getting to his feet.

"I really, really, need to go for a walk. I can't even think straight right now. I don't know if I should hate you… or what… If I don't get out of this room I'm going to explode." Sam explained calmly. Dean nodded, knowing he had no other option.

"Keep close and keep your phone on, we need to figure out our game plan when you come back." Dean explained. Sam nodded and walked out the door.

- - -

Sam did a mental recap.

_So, my mother died over my crib, christening me into this dark organization that considers me the chosen one. Hmm, great. Question: Why me? _

_After my mother's strange death, my father took it upon himself to figure this information out. He kept it a secret, and protected me from the demon when he it returned each year on the anniversary of my mother's death. Oh God… should I be this calm about it? Is it weird that I'm calm? _

_My brother found their book. How that psycho does anything he does, I'll never know. So, the leader is this unstoppable demon, the same demon that killed my mother and tried to take over my brother to kill my father and get to me. And Meg works for him. Serena worked for him. Question: Why did I dream about Serena and how the hell does this man fit into it all? _

_Jessica's death may or may not be Dean's fault. He's been lying to me for the past eleven months and took me directly into lion's den, so to speak, knowing full well that he's more than likely going to get his ass killed. He said himself that it was unstoppable… correction, except for one night. Question: How does Dean think we're going to kill it? Better Question: Is Dean insane? _

Sam sighed heavily and rubbed his face, inhaling the coastal air deeply. He honestly wished he was dreaming. He wanted to wake up and be in motel bed, the smell of coffee filling his nostrils.

All he had to do was wake up and it would be better. If he could just wake up, all this would go away.

Just wake up Sam and it will all be gone.

Just wake up and none of it will be real.

But he was all ready awake.

And it was all very real.

- - -

Dean wanted to break something. Or someone. Yeah. Break that demon. God, if he could get his hands on it. Watch out. He'd swing it against the wall, stomp on its face, torture it and completely ravage it.

The thought made him smile.

If demons felt pain, he'd cause it more pain than it'd ever felt before.

If demons could beg, he'd make it beg for its worthless life and then kill it slowly and painfully.

If demons could cry, he'd make it cry like a baby and then blow its goddamn head off and stick it on the wall.

What a lovely little prize.

"You're going insane, Dean." He whispered to himself and hung his head in his hands. "And now you're talking to yourself… nice." He sighed heavily and got to feet. He remembered seeing his father pacing a lot after Sam had left.

_Did it help you, Dad? Did it make you worry less? Because I'm worried. And scared. Scared out my mind. And my head hurts. Did you worry yourself into headaches, Dad? Did your stomach hurt like this too when you worried about Sam? Did you sweat like this? _

Dean started pacing.

How long ago had Sam left? Three minutes? Three hours? Damn it. He didn't know. Was it last night? This night?

_Where am I? _

_What is the date? _

_Where the hell is Sam? _

Dean felt his legs move from underneath him, and he wondered where they had gone to when his head met the ground painfully.

Before the darkness wrapped him in its cold blanket Dean's last thought was; "I shouldn't have let Sam go outside without his coat, he was running a fever."

- - -

Sam had no way of knowing how long he'd been outside. But he was shivering and so he figured it was long enough.

His head was still cloudier than downtown Seattle during the winter, but that damn headache wasn't as bad anymore.

He walked back to the motel room, dreading seeing Dean sitting on the bed the same way he'd been when Sam left. Part of him felt he needed to apologize, the other part felt that he deserved an apology.

But when he opened the door and saw Dean sprawled out on the ground, who owed who an apology didn't matter anymore.

"Dean!" Sam yelled, throwing the door shut and running to his brother's side. He lifted Dean's head, not liking the damp feeling he got when he touched the back of his brother's head. "Hey buddy, come on, wake up…"

"Two for one deal, huh?" Someone whispered. Sam froze and turned around slowly. It was the bitch lady, as Dean referred to her.

The cranky-Impala hating bitch lady.

Only now her hair was down in long waves and the scarf was gone to reveal a very wrinkled neck and her gloves were gone to reveal her old hands. He noticed her hair for the first time… it was speckled with gray. She'd hadn't seemed that old yesterday. She took off her sunglasses and Sam gasped. Her face was as young as he had imagined, but her eyes were an impossible blue color… her entire eyes.

"What did you do to him?" Sam yelled. She smiled.

"Just made him go to sleep." She explained. "You'll be joining him soon."

Sam wanted to get up, to run at her, but his legs failed him and he fell back, landing on his back. He struggled to get up, but failed miserably.

She laughed at his efforts.

"What… are you… going to do…?" Sam struggled to get the words out. Speak. Breath. Keep your eyes open. Listen. Think. Too much… Too tired…

"I'm the nightmare demon, Sammy. You should know that." She said softly. "I feed off pain, keeps me young… you two are just overflowing with pain. I smelt it a mile away." She inhaled through her nose. "Lovely."

"The murders… internal bleeding…"

"Not me." She explained. "Well, okay, one was, just the first one. The others are copycats. I opened the door for something much bigger, Sammy." She smiled. "But they're pleased with my work, they want me to continue." She looked at Dean. "I was just supposed to take him, not kill him of course, just make him a pile of worthless blubbering… but you're both so ripe… I might have to taste you both." She straddled Dean's waist and put her hands on either side of Dean's head. "And I'll let you watch, since it will just add to your flavor."

With a flick of her wrist, Sam was pinned against the wall, forced to watch.

"You'll love this, I promise." She whispered to him and then focused on Dean. She pouted her lips. "What a pretty brother you have." She cocked her head to the side. "I didn't realize how gorgeous he was, yesterday." She looked at Sam. "I mean, you're lovely, but Dean… wow." She ran her fingers over his lips and touched his eyelashes. "Such lovely features wasted… what a shame." She put her hands back on either side of his head and then tilted her own head back, whispering dark Latin phrases under her breath.

Dean's face twisted in agony, his body arched and his head tipped back, the muscles in his neck tightening and growing larger. His feet flexed and un-flexed, his fists clenched and unclenched.

Sam fought against his invisible restraints. But in the end he was doomed to watch his brother's mental war from the outside. Unable to help, unable to be the sidekick, unable to comfort.

But definitely able to cry.

And Sam did just that.

And he cried proudly. Each tear resonating in his determination. Each tear that fell was another reason to fight this. To fight it all.

Each tear that fell from his Dean's eyes was another reason to win. Another reason to beat it all.

- - -

**A/N:** I just have to say something real quick, this story is a complete accident. Its totally winged and yet, I keep making all these accidental connects… so if you find something that is like, an amazing connection, please, point it out because I can almost guarantee that it was done completely by accident and I probably don't even know its there. : )

Review and I will love you forever.


	4. Ch 4: Free Me

**A/N:** Thanks so much for the reviews, guys. I didn't get the thirty I wanted, but I did get a lot. It means so much to me, and those of you who did review are so wonderful. I just want to hug you all!

**Another A/N:** So, I've got the next chapter up and ready, I totally had another creative blow out and wow… I wrote a lot yesterday. So, if I get enough reviews, I'll post again.

**Warnings:** Hmm… none really.

**Disclaimer:** See other chapters. The lyrics are from Foo Fighters.

_**ENJOY AND REVIEW IF YOU WANT MORE**_

**Chapter Four: Free Me**

Free me right now  
You take me away, take it from me  
Free me right now  
You take me away, take it from me, yeah!

Beautiful prisoner, left here for dead  
Promises made and sentences read  
Voices and visions are locked in my head  
I could sing for sorrow  
All of the words that we damn never speak  
All of our ghosts and secrets we keep  
Gather them all we'll bury them deep  
I could sing for sorrow

_Dean stood still, taking in the sight in front of him. _

_Blood. _

_Everywhere. _

_He looked down at his hands. They were soaked red. _

_He appeared to be in a basement, one a lot similar to the one he'd almost died in with crazy old Mr. Marshal trying to hack down the door. Except this one was pretty, with the blood and all. _

"_The hell…" Dean whispered. _

_"Welcome to your subconscious, Dean Winchester." A hand slid down his shoulder, across his chest, to his other shoulder. Another hand mirrored. Two arms were slung loosely around his neck, not choking, hugging. "I've been waiting for you." _

_"Cassie?" Dean whispered, not daring to turn around. _

_"So you do remember me. Man, with all those random hook ups I assumed you'd forgotten me by now." She taunted. _

_"I could never forget you, Cassie…" Dean whispered, trying to turn around. The hands gripped his biceps with a grip that'd leave bruises. With a yelp of surprise Dean was shoved to the ground, barely managing to avoid biting his tongue in half as his chin smashed against the dirt floor. _

_The rough hands turned him over and he was staring directly at the half rotted teeth of none other than Papa Bender. _

_"You… you're dead." Dean stuttered. The old man smiled, pulling Dean to his feet and shoving him into a chair where Dean found himself familiarly tied. _

_"And so are you, boy… at least you're getting there." He whispered and lifted a red hot iron, taunting Dean with it. "You know who would love to take this to you?" _

_"Who?" Dean spat, fighting against the bonds. _

_"The little girl whose life you ruined." Papa Bender dissipated and in his place stood a little girl. She was wearing a white hospital gown and she looked impossibly clean, like a china doll. Her blonde hair fell in front of her face. _

_But it was unmistakably Missy. That same crazy little girl who held a knife with such comfort that it made Dean nervous. _

_"Quite ironic, Dean. Don't you think?" She taunted, her soft voice floating around him. Dean struggled against the ties. "You knew how to kill at my age too. You'd seen it, enjoyed it, savored it." _

_"We were killing monsters, not innocent people!" Dean snapped. _

_"What makes someone a monster, Dean?" She asked softly. "Lies? Well, you've got that down. Stealing? Wow, another point for you. Murder?" She leaned down close to his face. "Timmy Walker and Marshal Hall might call you a murderer." She smiled. "Wow, you're three for three. Want to go for one more?" _

_Dean set his jaw and stared at the ground. _

_"It hurts, you know." _

_Dean looked up and gasped. _

_"Mom…" He whispered. Her milky white hand reached out and touched his cheek, her hand was ice cold, but he didn't pull back from the touch. "What hurts, Mom?" Dean asked, tears threatening to make an uninvited appearance. _

_"The fire…" She whispered and a phantom wind blew her blonde hair back, ruffled her white dress. "It hurts all the time, Dean." _

_"How can I help you?" _

_"You can't, baby." She whispered, stroking his face. "You look so much like my father." She said with a small smile. "I'm sorry." _

_Dean shook his head. _

_"The fire is going to take you too." She whispered and then turned. _

_"No! Mom, wait!" Dean yelled, jerking in the chair. "Mom!" He thrust forward and his chair tipped, smashing Dean on the floor awkwardly. He groaned and rolled to the side, smashing his left hand between the wood and the cement. _

_Mary kept walking. _

_"Why do you deserve life more than me, Dean?" _

_"Lela?" Dean whimpered, his eyes closed. "What the hell is going on?" He groaned to himself. "I don't know, Lela. I don't deserve life. I deserve to die, slowly and painfully." He lifted his eyes to an unknown being. "Is that what you want me to say? You sick son of a bitch? Huh? What do you want? I know this isn't real! You can't break me!" _

_"I was engaged, you know." Someone whispered. Dean reguarded the unfamiliar face with confusion. "Oh, you don't know me. I just died to save you. No big deal or anything. Thanks for coming to my funeral by the way." _

_"Marshal Hall." Dean realized. _

_"I had a little brother too, you know. But I don't think he would have killed you to save me… or maybe he would have. I guess I'll never know."  
"I didn't choose this… We didn't know." _

_"But you knew something was fishy. You knew that much! You shouldn't have even been there! You don't even believe in God!" Marshal Hall stepped back into the shadows. "Two good people are dead because you were too damn selfish to let the Reverend pick someone else, someone more deserving." _

_"I did it for Sam! I didn't think it was going to work! But the damn kid was so… I did it for him…" Dean let his head fall forward. _

_"Why'd you leave me, Dean?" A gentle voice. A small voice. A familiar voice. _

_"Timmy?" Dean asked, turning his head, scraping his nose on the ground as he struggled to view the untied red shoes. _

_"Why'd you leave me there?" He asked again. Dean closed his eyes. _

"_This isn't real, this isn't real. You're dead. You're dead." He took a deep breath. "Sam! Get me out of here! Sammy!" _

_The little boy knelt down, pressing his face on the ground so he could make eye contact with Dean. "I was your best friend. And you left me. I was cold and scared… and I asked you to stay…" The tears shining in the little boy's eyes, the Sam like demeanor, or something about the familiar sparkle in that boy's eyes made something inside Dean open, or break. _

_"I needed to get help… I thought I could save you, I'm sorry." He whispered. _

_"You're a monster, Dean." _

_"I was ten. I thought…" _

_"You're lying. That's all you ever do. Lie to make yourself feel better!" The voice was older now, deeper, but oh so familiar. _

_Oh, God. _

_Not this. _

_"Sammy…" Dean whispered. Suddenly the ropes were gone and Dean was free. He struggled to his feet. _

_"You've known this whole time where the demon was, didn't you?" Sam asked. Dean nodded slowly. "And you didn't tell me." _

_"I was protecting you, Sam." _

_"From what? Killing myself with guilt? I thought Jessica was dead because of me! Because I wasn't smart enough to listen to my dreams…" Sam sighed. "You know, the monster in my dreams, always stays in the shadows… but I know who it is now. It's you." Sam took a step back. _

_"Sam, wait." Dean went to follow him, but a ring of fire erupted, blocking his passage. An arm flew up to cover his mouth, and Dean squinted against the intense heat. "Sam! Don't do this!" _

_"And now you'll die alone, just like I want." And with that, Sam turned around and walked away. _

_The fire closed in quickly. _

_But not quick enough to be merciful. _

_He choked and hacked on the dense smoke as the fire blistered his skin. _

_And suddenly he was cold. _

_After all that fire and all that heat. _

_He was too cold to shiver. _

_The pain was intense. _

_The death was lonely. That was what hurt the most._

- - -

"Dean! Wake up! Listen to my voice! Listen to me!" Sam yelled as Dean continued to thrash, his lips moving but no sound escaping them.

"Oh, this is a hot one." She muttered, gasping in pure joy.

_Gross_. Sam realized. _She's getting an orgasm off my brother's pain. Sick bitch, get off my brother! _

"Oh, no fun…" She pouted when the thrashing suddenly stopped. She let her hands fall and she gently caressed his sweaty face until his eyelids opened. "Was it good for you too?" She whispered, leaning her face down to kiss him softly.

When she pulled back, Dean was scowling at her.

"Why can't I move?" He slurred, his mouth barely moving.

"Side effect, it will wear off." She smiled and looked over at Sam. "But not before I sample your baby brother's flavor."

"Don't touch him." Dean hissed. "If you lay a hand on him I swear I will…" She put her hand on his forehead, sending him a flash of memories—memories which depicted the time Dean deserted his sick brother to get a glass of water and returned to see him dead—that made him cry out.

"You'll what?" She asked sweetly. "Mind wave me to death? Breaking news Dean baby, you can't move."

"As soon as I…" His teeth were bared, his words a complete hiss. But she merely giggled and waved at hand at him.

"I'll be long gone by then, handsome." She explained. "Just relax and enjoy the show." She wiggled her nose—a weirdly hot imitation of Samantha, Dean thought—and sent him flying back against the wall.

What is it about that boy that makes him such a wall-magnet?

He stayed there, suspended next to his brother over their unmade beds. More than anything in the world, Sam just wanted Dean to look at him, just to see the forgiveness in his eyes, the tears on his cheeks. But Dean's neck was too weak to support his head and his chin fell to his chest.

"Your turn." The demon sung and Sam fell to the ground. She pounced on him, straddling him like she had done his brother. "Don't think of this as being sloppy seconds, Samuel. Orders are orders. If it had been my choice, you'd have been first. I like to save the best for last."

Dean snorted. Because the bitch-Impala hater was effectively stroking his ego. Damn, if she hadn't been a demon, they could have really hit it off.

"Sam." Dean rasped, trying in vain to lift his head. "Remember, everything she shows you… none of it is real. I'm real. Me. Don't forget that."

"Shut up!" She sighed tiredly and touched her nose, smiling wickedly. Dean's head lifted, but no noise escaped from his moving lips. His face was turning red with the effort to talk, but no noise came. "Ah, the wonder of silence." She looked down at Sam. "Now, lets see what you bottle up in this adorable head of yours." She put her hands on either side of his head and closed her eyes.

Sam couldn't hold back the cry that escaped his lips when a sharp pain split through his head and red exploded behind his eyes.

"Damn it! Damn it! Damn it! DAMN IT!" She screamed and stood up, shaking out her hands like she had burnt them. "Rules." She muttered, shaking her head.

"Rules?" Dean asked, apparently her powers had short circuited because Dean was sitting limply on the floor and he was talking.

Sam sat up and touched his upper lip where it had begun to itch. His fingers came back wet. His nose was bleeding.

"I cannot enter his mind." She said sadly as if she was a teenager denied her right to attend a party despite the fact that "everyone is going to be there."

"Why the hell not?" Dean snapped. Sure, its not like he wanted her to invade his little brother's mind, but why had he been a moving target and Sam was a no fly zone?

"The League wouldn't like it." She explained. "I'd be killed on the spot if any harm came to their Chosen One." She sighed disgustedly. "My powers have been overridden for the time being." She looked at Sam.

"You're one lucky little boy, you know that?" She asked. "You've got the biggest evil beacon on your back, you attract every thing from here to Kingdom Come, and yet… we can't touch you. You're the Holy Grail, kid. Only your guards… they can kill you with so much as a blink." She sighed heavily. "You know why they're after you, right?"

Sam didn't answer.  
"Come on, Sammy. You don't see connection. Take your dead friend Max as an example… telekinesis, you see the future. What's the common thing?"

"Shut the hell up!" Dean roared, struggling to his feet.

"You're gorgeous Deano, but you're annoying as all get out." She held out her hand and a blade materialized. She closed her fist around the handle. "One more peep and I'll go for a bull's eye." She explained and looked back at Sam. "Connection?" She sung. "You both have powers, Sammy boy. You're special. Mutants of a new breed, a better breed. The League is essentially an X-Men rip off, but completely real."

"Don't listen to her Sam." Dean yelled. The demon sighed, closing her eyes.

"What did I say?" She asked, turning to Dean. She cocked her hand back and threw with deadly accuracy.

"Dean!" Sam yelled, and for the first time he felt like he was part of the world again. He'd been standing there, witnessing a train wreck that was once his life. The glint of the knife was his bucket of ice water.

The knife hit its target: Dean's lung.

"Slow and painful." She cheered. "Not so chatty now, are we, Dean?" She turned back to Sam. "They're coming." And then she left through the front door, closing it softly behind her.

"Dean." Sam whispered and ran to his brother's side. Dean started to speak, but another voice came to him. Actually, it was Dean's voice, but it sounded so far away.

"Sam! Remember that none of it is real!"

"Shut up!" The demon?

"Sam!"

"Goddamn it! I said SHUT UP!"

Sam awoke with a start and heard Dean's triumphant yell.

"Losing control so quickly?" Dean asked with a laugh. "Sammy! Get up you lazy punk! Get up and fight her!"

Sam got to his knees. The demon was struggling to stand, sweat had broken out on her forehead and she looked utterly exhausted.

There was almost some pity for her. Almost.

"Dean, you're not…" Sam looked at his brother. He was slumped on the ground, but there was no knife.

"It wasn't real, Sam." Dean whispered.

"Don't be so certain, Sam." The demon taunted, panting. "All that information… the League, they're real."

"Don't listen to her, Sam!"

"Why don't you want him to know, Dean?" She asked softly. "He has a right to know about his destiny."

"I swear I'm going to hunt you down and kill you…"

"After tonight there will be nothing to hunt. The League will take care of that."

"What are you? A supernatural suicide bomber?" Dean taunted. She shrugged.

"You could say that." She stood up straight. "Sam, everything I said… its all very true. Every word. And Dean knew it all." She cocked her head to the side. "When did Deano stop being your hero, Sammy?" She whispered. "I just grazed the surface of your memories… but it was all too clear that you no longer hold Dean on a pedestal like you used to. Why is that?"

Dean grunted as he tried to get to his feet, using the wall as support. Sam took a deep breath.

"I grew up and realized there is no such thing as heroes." Sam explained, his eyes closing against the pressure he felt building at the back of his head.

"Oh but Dean has heroes." She whispered. "Daddy Winchester. That man is a God in the eyes of your big brother… but to you? He might as well be dead."

"You're a bitch…" Dean gasped, slumped against the wall, but on his feet. He was trembling and drenched in sweat.

She began to clap.

"Bravo, Dean. No one has fought the effects like you have. It normally takes days for it to wear off."

"Well I'm not normal." He hissed and took a shaky step forward.

"You certainly are not." She agreed and turned back to Sam. "Does it make you mad that he didn't call, Sammy? He didn't show up at Lawrence, even after Dean called him." She looked at Dean, smiling. "Those tears were so heart-wrenching, really." She laughed as Dean took another step, his knees almost buckling, but he regained his balance. "How about when you called after stupid here almost got himself killed. What moron doesn't know water conducts electricity? Does he even know that you spent ten minutes trying to revive him before the paramedics showed up? Does he know how scared you were? I bet he doesn't. And when you called your father, he didn't even call you back to check in."

Sam's whole body was tense.

"You've got one hell of a family, Sam. A brother with a death wish and a father who doesn't give a damn. Congrats." She patted his shoulder. "And the cherry on the sundae? Everything is your fault…"

"No!" Sam yelled.

He heard a scream and looked up. The demon was half way across the room, in a pile of graying red hair and arthritic bones. Dean was on his knees now, wheezing, gasping. The explosion of power that Sammy had just let loose had shattered all the windows, obliterated anything glass and sent Miss Bitchy-Impala hater across the room. Dean had taken a small portion of the power, just enough to knock the wind from his lungs.

"Jesus Christ, Sammy…" Dean breathed. Sam got to his feet slowly, his head spinning. "Maybe you should sit down, Carrie." He said with a smile.

And despite it all, Sam smiled back.

Because in his eyes, Sam saw all Dean left unspoken.

- - -

_**Okay, you know what to do. Click the button and leave me a message.**_


	5. Ch 5: The Moment I Said It

**WARNING: **Language in the authors note, if you don't like it, don't read it. : ) But tonight's finale constitutes my cussing.Oh, and if you haven't seen the finale yet…. Don't read my authors note, wait for the one at the end.

Don't read any farther if you haven't seen the finale, skip right to the story.

You will be spoiled

So tragic...

**A/N:** THEY KILLED MY MOTHER FUCKING CAR! Oh my holy… wow. I screamed at the end. What a cliff hanger. I hate it, but I love it. Love love love it, but I wanted to scream (I did scream, but I wanted to scream louder) I was like, "See, I knew it would end with them driving to the hospital…" and then BAM and I sat up, covered my mouth and screamed. "MY CAR!" (I'm currently as obsessed with the Impala as I am with Jensen, lol)

**Another A/N:** So, who loved the finale? ME. Oh my gosh, so amazing. It was like, everything I love about this show packed into one moment. Part of me is totally sad about what happened to Meg… she was good for the show. And Dean… hmm… he didn't do much for me (he's still the most gorgeous man I've ever laid eyes on, but him hitting her and I didn't see him as the type to beg for his life, even if it was a very little amount) There was lots of close up of Jensen's emotional face.

**Another another A/N**: And for those of you who aren't aware, the US release date for the Season One is around September 5th, don't quote me on that, but that's what I believe.

**Yeah, another one:** So, I had this intense need to post after that amazing episode. SPECTACULAR. I woke up my parents to tell them about my poor poor car. Anyway, read and review, like always.

**DISCLAIMER:** See previous chapters… song by Imogen Heap (right?)

I've got the next chapter almost finished, I love it so far. (Is it wrong to love your own work?) So, review and I will post (My ultimate goal is to get 100 reviews before this is over) Oh, and didn't the demon have the creepiest eyes? Hehe. **REVIEW**

**Chapter Five: The Moment I Said It**

_The moment I said it  
the moment I opened my mouth  
lead in your eyelids  
Bulldozed the life out of me  
I know what you're thinking  
But darling you're not thinking straight  
Sadly things just happen... we can't... explain _

It's not even light out,  
But you've somewhere to be - no hesitation  
No I've never seen you like this  
And I don't like it, I don't like it, I don't like it at all

"Pack. Now. We're getting the hell out of here." Dean ordered, throwing his things into his bag. "Don't stand there like a fish out of water, Sam! Get moving!" He yelled. Sam nodded and numbly began to pack, his body tingling with the left over energy.

What the hell had just happened?

Dean paused and watched his brother fumble to just move. He sighed heavily. "Go get in the car, I'll pack…"

"No." Sam muttered. "I can do it." He said softly and tried to shove a pair of jeans into his bag, but missed the opening. Oh yeah, he's totally capable.

"Sam…" Dean walked over to his brother and grabbed his shoulder.

A spark ran between them. Not a normal, ran on the carpet in socks shock, but a licked open wire kind of shock. Sam half excepted Dean's hair to be smoking when he lifted his eyes after the initial pain subsided.

Dean had his hands raised, his eyes wide in shock. "What the hell…" Dean shook out his hand and went to touch Sam again.

"Don't!" Sam yelled and jerked away. "I could hurt you!" Sam reeled back with the realization. Oh God. He could kill Dean. As easy as batting an eye he could kill someone. He was a monster.

"You couldn't hurt a fly, Sammy. Come on." Dean said with a feeble smile and an even weaker voice. "It was just a fluke…" Dean grabbed Sam's arm.

Another shock. Dean let go with a yelp and hugged his arm to his chest. Sam barely flinched.

"Why did you lie to me?" Sam asked softly. Dean looked at his brother. His broken brother.

_Please God_. Dean begged._ Let me be able to fix him this time. _

"This isn't the time, Sam." Dean explained and tossed him a bag. Sam purposely let it fall to the ground. "Sam." Dean begged. _Begged._ Dean Winchester did not beg. "Please just grab the bag and let's go."

"You're going to tell me everything I need to know…" He grabbed Dean's shirt and pinned him against the wall. "I need to know, Dean."

Dean clenched his jaw and stared into his brother's eyes.

"You put me down right now…" Dean ordered. Sam realized that he was holding his brother off the ground. He let go and staggered back, falling onto the bed.

"What's happening to me?" Sam whispered, dropping his head into his hands.

"I don't have the answers, Sam." Dean admitted. "But I know who does." He grabbed the bags. "Come with me and I'll get you your answers, I promise."

"I'll go alone." Sam said monotonously.

"Hell you will. I won't tell you a goddamn thing! We're a team, Samuel! You said it your self. We're all we have left. We stick together!"

"That was before you lied to me, Dean!" Sam yelled and got to his feet. "If we're such a team…" Dean shoved him back onto the bed.

"You shut up and listen to me. I'm going to tell you all this one time, and then we're never going to talk about it again. You understand?" Dean yelled. Sam didn't answer and he got a poke to the chest for his troubles. "Do. You. Understand?"

"Yes."

"When you were six months old, the demon came for you, because you are different. You have these powers that other people don't have and that makes you special. Max had them too. But they're a huge burden. Very few can handle these gifts." He laughed at the irony of the gifts. "The League is real, very real. And this demon is the leader, okay? They want you and Dad and I have been doing everything in our power to stop them. Its basically a cult, Sam. It is spread all over the world and the members are everywhere. That's why Dad is so careful about contacting us." He sat down on the other bed and took a deep breath. When he spoke again his voice was low and much quieter. "We've never told you because we know what you would do."

"What would I do?" Sam asked softly.

"Anything to protect me and Dad. We couldn't have you go off and do something stupid like put a bullet in your forehead." And Sam couldn't deny that the thought hadn't crossed his mind in the past two hours. "Because despite the fact that you complete their puzzle… you're also the only thing that can bring them down."

"But why me?" Sam asked, hating himself for sounding so pathetic. Dean got up and sat down next to his brother. Hesitantly he placed a hand on Sam's knee. They both stared, waiting for the painful shock to tear them apart again.

But mercy found them for once and no shock came.

"Sometimes Sam, bad things just happen."

- - -

He wished he had answers.

More than anything in this world, he wished he had the answers.

Why Sam?

Why this family?

Just, why?

Dean sighed heavily and cast a long glance at Sam's sleeping form. The poor kid had fallen asleep twenty minutes into the drive.

I'm sure a power blast like that would even tucker out the Incredible Hulk. Dean had only felt a fraction of the power and it left his body feeling like it'd been at ground zero.

He wanted to sleep. But he had to get Sam his answers. He'd promised himself a long time ago that he wouldn't go back to her and ask her to help him again… but he had to. He had to know. Sam had to know.

A small whimper attracted Dean's attention. Another whimper and Dean placed a strong hand on Sam's shoulder.

"Sammy. It's okay. It's just a dream." He whispered. Sam sat up, his eyes wide, his hair a complete mess. Dean couldn't help but smile. "You look like Bambi."

"Bite me." Sam grumbled and shifted in his seat. He ran a hand over his face and rubbed his eyes. "Where are we?"

"Almost there."

"Almost where?"

"There."

"Whatever." Sam sighed dejectedly and looked out the window.

The lingering silence was too much. They had too much to talk about. Sam couldn't stand it. He wanted to grab Dean and demand they talk everything out. What had been such a big source of pain that she had managed to keep Dean down so long and Sam for so little? What was Dean hiding in that mind of his?

"You had to do CPR?" Dean asked suddenly.

And Sammy is the psychic of the family?

Sam looked at him, confused, so Dean elaborated. "After I got ele…" He cleared his throat and spoke a little quieter. "Electrocuted?" He avoided Sam's gaze. It was hard to talk about. For both of them.

"Yeah." Sam whispered. "You weren't breathing… no pulse. It wasn't that big of a deal."

"Yeah it is." Dean corrected.

"It's not like you haven't done it before." Sam said softly. Dean nodded.

"You're right. I've done it a lot of times. But never like that, Sammy. I should… I should have none better. I was just…"

Sam gave him the time he needed to spit it out.

"I didn't want it to get to you and those kids. I wasn't thinking about me."

"And that's the problem." Sam interjected. "You never think about yourself Dean and one day its going to get you killed."

"Not with you there to fix my mistakes." Dean said with a grin. Sam sighed heavily.

"But I'm not always going to be there, Dean."

"Why do I read more into that than I should? I have a hunch you're not referring to going back to school." Dean looked at his brother.

"Dean, I know you're looking at the glass as half full, but you don't have these dreams. Man, if going with them will stop what I see from happening…"

"Don't Sam." Dean snapped. "Here you were, telling me that my selflessness is going to get me killed… and you're talking about the same exact goddamn thing!" Dean yelled. "Look at me." And Sam did. "Do you think I'm scared about what they could do to me? No. I couldn't give a rat's ass about what that cult wants to do to me. You're the only one that matters, Sam. You're the only one."

"Don't say that!" Sam yelled. "You matter to me!" He turned and grabbed a fistful of Dean's shirt. "You matter to me, Dean! And I won't do anything that could get you hurt." Dean pulled the Impala over to the side of the road.

"And I won't let you do anything that will get you hurt, either!" Dean yelled back. "You don't understand… you're the only one that can stop the League. Sam… there is this prophecy…"

"Of course… there's always a prophecy…" He muttered.

"Listen up, Smartass, because this one is about us." Dean said angrily, poking Sam's chest. "The gist? You're going to save the world and Dad and I are going to die. That's the way its gunna be, kid. That's why we've never mentioned it. Because we knew you'd run from it. But you can't run from it, Sam! I'm sorry, but you can't. Believe me, we've been trying, but there is no where to run."

Sam shook his head. "No…" His voice broke.

"And it sucks, Sam. I'm sorry. I don't want it to be that way either… but that is how it's going to end." Sam squeezed the handful of leather jacket tighter.

"No. I won't let it…" Sam whispered. Dean's heart broke with his little brother's voice. He lifted his arm and placed his hand over Sam's where it lay on his shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, Sam."

"Why'd you tell me this?" Sam yelled, letting go of Dean's coat and yanking his hand back.

"You wanted to know!" Dean yelled. Sam got out of the car and staggered off the road, falling to his knees in the ditch.

Sam heard a curse and then heard Dean get out of the car. He ran over to Sam's side, kneeling next to him. "I won't let you die, Dean. I'll fight tooth and nail…"

"I know you will, Sam. And I know if there is a way, you will find it. If anyone can, you can. I have faith in you, Sammy." And Sam broke down because those were his brother's dying words every night in his dreams.

Strong arms wrapped around his shoulders. His brother's arms drew him into a warm hug.

They were above the embarrassment of chick flick moments, because here, on this new level of pain they had discovered, they were all alone.

Sam fisted Dean's shirt, burying his head in Dean's chest while Dean raked his fingers through Sam's tangled hair. "Its okay, Sam. Somehow, we'll make it okay."

And Sam wanted to ask his brother how. How in the world could they ever make this okay? But when Dean's chest heaved and shook, Sam remembered that Dean didn't have the answers. Dean wasn't much older than Sam, he wasn't a kid that long ago. And when Sam looked up and saw the tear roll down Dean's cheek, he realized that Dean was just as scared as he was.

And that brought comfort.

Because he and Dean were together in this.

- - -

**(A/N**: _The events mentioned below take place in The Bandage Cuts Me Deeper, just so you know. I think I want this story to have started after… Something Wicked… but there may be spoilers for everything if I can work them in… okay, resume the reading, but look at the message at the bottom_

"New Orleans?" Sam whispered. Dean nodded.

"Remember Eve?" Dean asked. Sam nodded.

"How could I forget Eve?" He asked with a grin. "I remember her crazy mother too." Sam muttered.

"Yeah…" And that was that. No more talking. Because they would eventually hit the subject of Jane, and that was like pouring salt on open wounds. It was less than six months ago that she had died in Dean's arms. No one, not even Dean Winchester, could deal with something like that so quickly. "Well, Eve followed in her mother's footsteps, got into the whole priestess thing… not evil of course, but she knows what she's doing. I think she can help us."

"I'm not sure I trust Eve to do anything right." Sam joked.

Amazing how they could joke about the little things after their massive, record-breaking chick flick moment they'd driven away from at seventy five miles per hour just forty five minutes ago.

"Just don't let her hear you say that." Dean whispered as he parked the car in the driveway of the familiar yellow house.

The white door opened and Eve stood on the porch, waving.

"Jesus. It's called a condom." Dean muttered when he saw her large stomach. He got out of the car and raised his hands questioningly and smiled.

"I didn't get a wedding invite!" He yelled. Eve narrowed her eyes and put her hands on her hips.

"That's because there were no guests. Josh and I eloped." She pointed to her stomach. "I found out I was pregnant and I was not having another baby out of wedlock. Josh's mother almost killed us when Angela was born." Dean smiled at her. "Now, get over here and give me a hug."

Sam got out of the car and watched as Dean walked over to her and gave her a big hug. He'd noticed right away, even during their very short time together that Dean and Eve had a great bond. She was like a sister to him.

Sam walked over and smiled feebly. She'd drugged him and almost helped kill his older brother, but it was hard not to like Eve. She reached up and messed with his hair and then gave him a hug.

"Okay skinny boys, come inside and eat something." She ordered. Sam and Dean exchanged glances.

"Got any ketchup?" Dean asked, and Sam laughed when she whirled around and slapped his chest.

- - -

Eve smiled as Angela danced in the middle of the kitchen. "It's our dinner theatre." She explained and handed Sam and Dean their sandwiches.

"Got a beer?" Dean asked. Eve crossed her arms over her chest.

"No. I do not have a _beer_. We have Skim milk and V8-Splash. What tickles your fancy?" She asked snottily.

"I'll have water." Dean muttered and lifted up the bread on his sandwich to check its insides.

"Don't worry. I ran out of cockroaches after Sam's sandwich." She said sarcastically and walked over to the fridge, retrieving two beers from the back. She set down one in front of Dean and twisted off the cap of the other and handed it to Sam.

"Oh, thanks." Dean whispered. She smiled and shrugged a shoulder.

"Take it off with your teeth." She ordered. He glared and she smiled. "Okay, before we get too off topic." She sat down across the table from them. "What brings you here, besides the amazing company?"

Dean sighed heavily and looked at Sam, who chose now to be thoroughly engrossed in Angela's dinner theatre, and then at Eve.

"Sam's been having these dreams. And if you could let me see them…"

Dinner theatre couldn't save them now.

"What the hell, Dean? You said she was going to give us answers. Not let you invade my head!" Sam yelled, getting to his feet.

"Maybe it will give us answers, Sam. Calm down…"

"No! I will not calm down until you stop lying to me!" Sam snapped. "Damn you, Dean! Damn you! You lied to me once, and like an idiot I trusted you not to do again! But that's all you do! You're a liar!"

"Oh, excuse me, Mr. Honesty." Dean got to his feet too. "I had to get you here because this is something we need to do. I talked to Dad…"

The blows just kept coming. This last one left Sam's head spinning.

"You talk to him?" Sam asked. "You're in this together? Oh my god…"

"Look, I just talked to him last night… while you were sleeping he called me. We haven't been conspiring against you this whole time. Don't be so paranoid."

"Don't tell me not to be paranoid. I have every right to be paranoid."

Eve stood up. "Okay! Boys! Calm down!" She clapped her hands together loudly. They both looked at her. "I think I can help you."

- - -

"You touch me with that and I might have to kill you." Dean threatened as Eve carried a pail of mud towards them.

They were outside, near the stream that ran through Eve's backyard.

"This is holy ground… ancient priestesses practiced here… its where my mother drew her power from. Where I draw mine." Eve explained. "Take off your shirts."

"It's cold." Sam whispered.

"Cry me a river." She whispered back. "Strip down and get in the water."

They pulled off their shirts and stepped into the water, the icy stream soaking through their shoes.

"Sit." She ordered.

"Hell no." Dean snapped. He was trying hard not to shiver as he hugged himself and rubbed his arms. Despite all that muscle, Dean was terrible at holding his heat.

"You want my help or not?" She asked. Dean sat down slowly, Sam following his lead. They both resisted the urge to squeal like little girls. She grabbed a handful of mud and smiled at Dean.

He glared. "Don't you…" She pressed a glob against his forehead and dragged it down his nose, over his lips, down his neck, down his chest and stopped above his bellybutton.

Sam watched, laughing. Eve couldn't help but smile. Sam was so cute when he laughed, those puppy dog eyes and those dimples… Sadly, she had to wipe that smile off his face.

"Don't feel left out, Sammy." Eve cooed and then repeated the mud "christening" with Sam as well. It was Dean's turn to laugh.

"Payback is a bitch." Dean muttered.

"Dude, you're covered in mud too." Sam reminded him. Sam rolled his eyes and looked expectantly at Eve. Dean reached out an arm and gave Sam a small shove. He teetered, but compensated and shot Dean a glare.

"What?" Dean hissed.

"Don't push me, man." Sam hissed back. Dean made a kissy face and Sam flipped him the "polite finger".

"My god, I am thankful I had a daughter. I couldn't handle this fighting all the time." Eve muttered as she flipped through the old spell book.

Kera's old spell book.

"I seem to remember burning that." Sam explained, regarding the book with curiosity. Eve nodded.

"Yes, you did. But they're essentially indestructible. I found it up in the attic a week after the funeral." She explained. "Scared me to death. But Josh read through it and found out that its not connected to a priestess's body, just spirit."

"So Kera's spirit is still around?" Dean piped up, starting to stand. Eve smiled, but put her hands out, the international "calm down" signal.

"Technically, yes. All priestesses live on in the holy land, but she can't harm anyone. Don't worry." She found the page. "Here we go." She looked at Sam. "You trust Dean, right?"

Sam looked at his brother for a moment. Even after all the lies… he'd still trust Dean with his life.

"I guess." Sam muttered. Dean scoffed, but Sam chose to ignore it.

"You're going to have to be positive. Yes or no?" She asked, eyeing him. Sam looked at Dean who pouted innocently. Sam rolled his eyes.

"Yes." Sam answered confidently. Eve smiled softly and looked down at the book.

"Lay back." She ordered. Sam looked at her incredulously. "There is a fire place inside. I'm not going to let the two of you freeze, just do it." Sam took a deep breath and slowly laid down in the water, breathing in quick gasps. So cold.

Sam heard splashes and a hand rested on his chest. His body erupted in goose-bumps and a shiver ran up his spine.

"I'm going to say a spell, Sam. It may be a little uncomfortable, and you're going to lose consciousness. But Dean and I are here. Don't be scared. Just relax." She whispered something, and Sam heard Dean protest. "Just hold his goddamn hand!" She snapped and Sam felt Dean's fingers entwine with his own. "Thank you." Eve muttered and Dean grumbled something. Sam heard a smack and Dean yelp. "Talk to me like that again and I will curse your hair and make it all fall out." She threatened.

"Can we just get on with it!" Sam yelled through chattering teeth. Eve placed her hand back on his chest and began to recite the spell. It was the same ancient language he'd heard Kera yell those few months ago. It was beautiful, yet frightening because the last time he'd heard it, it was going to kill his brother.

She was right about the discomfort. His body felt numb, but not that senseless numbing, that painful prickling sensation. His breathing slowed and he realized he'd lost control of it. His eyelids became way too heavy suddenly and he could no longer keep them open.

The darkness took him.

He squeezed Dean's hand as he felt himself drifting away.

- - -

Dean looked down at Sam's hand and squeezed back.

"He's out." Eve declared and took her hand away. She looked at Dean. "Now, you." She placed her hand on his forehead. "I can't hold the connection for long. It's very exhausting."

"Don't pass out." Dean said with fake concern. Eve grinned.

"Oh, honey, not tiring for me, for you." She explained with equally flimsy concern.

"Oh, well don't let me pass out then." Dean corrected. She smiled.

"Deep breaths, Dean. It feels strange. Relax and breathe." A shock wave was sent through his body and Dean held Sam's hand tighter. "Breathe. Breathe, Dean." She whispered. "In and out. In and out… In… and out…"

- - -

"What do you want with me?" Sam asked, his voice shaking and unsure. Dean pressed his ear against the wooden door. Yep, Sam was in there. Dean looked around, taking a minute to survey his surroundings. A few minutes of observation could very well mean the difference between life and death.

"Me? Personally, nothing." A woman's voice. Serena? "But, Father, well, he wants a lot with you."

"Where is my brother?" And Dean resisted the urge to jump in to the open and yell, "I'm here, Sammy." He needed the answers and he needed the now.

"Don't worry about him, Sam."She said gently. _And why the hell not?_ "I can't wait until I find you." She whispered. "So I can have you to myself. I'd only need a few minutes…" She laughed and Dean nearly gagged. It had to be Meg. Only that crazy bitch would talk like that.

"I watch you sometimes, Sam. You've got so much power. You don't even have an idea. Daddy does, but Daddy is afraid of you." Meg taunted. Dean was sure of it now, it was Meg. How did Sam not see the connection?

"Your father is a coward!" Sam yelled. Dean smiled. Insult until the death, Sammy boy. Go down being an ass.

She laughed again and Dean felt shivers race up and down his back. "Not my Daddy, Sam. Yours."

Dean reeled back. John wasn't afraid… was he?

There was some commotion and then Sam burst from the room. Dean grasped him by the arms roughly and shoved him against the wall. Sam fought wildly at first.

"Sam! It's me!" Dean yelled. Recognition flickered in Sam's eyes and he relaxed.

"Dean!" Sam cried and threw his arms around his brother. "Oh God, Dean." He sobbed. Dean was surprised, but didn't pull away from the gesture. He rubbed Sam's back reassuringly.

"Sam, its okay." Dean whispered. "I'm fine."

"Hey!" Someone yelled. Dean turned around and saw a man raise a gun. Two shots rang out.

"Dean!" Sam cried, grabbing Dean's arms as he slumped forward.

There was no pain, but a strange pressure alerted Dean to the fact that he'd just been shot. "Damn it." Dean gurgled, a coppery taste all ready building in his mouth. "Sam… its all okay… this is just a…"

But the world turned black and Dean closed his eyes against the feeling of vertigo as he was flung into another dream.

"Dean, I am so sorry." Sam sobbed, pressing his face in Dean's sweat soaked hair. "I love you. I love you so much. I'm sorry. I'll take the pain away." He promised. He placed his hand flat on Dean's back. "Goodbye."

Dean watched Sam kill him… this double person thing was really going to give him a headache. While Sam held dead Dean, a man laid a hand on Sam's shoulder.

"Don't touch me! You killed him!" Sam yelled, recoiling from the man's contact. "Get the hell away from us." Sam looked down at Dean's face again, smiling softly, stroking his hair. "I'm so sorry…" He whispered, kissing Dean's forehead and then hugging him to his chest again, rocking them both.

"Sammy…" Dean whispered. Sam looked up, his facing lighting up when he saw Dean. Though extremely confused, Sam ran to his brother and hugged him tightly.

Man, and Dean thought Sam was touchy feely in real life. Dream Sam was such a girl. Yeah, your brother came back from the dead, are the tears necessary?

"Dean… I thought you were…" Sam whispered. But Dean ignored his brother, choosing instead to focus his gaze on the man.

"Who are you?" Dean asked stiffly. The man smiled.

"We've met before, Dean." He explained.

At the bar.

"You warned me to let Sam go…"

"That's right." The man agreed. "But think hard, Dean. We've met once before that." Dean was drawing blanks. "Let me help you out. Twenty two years ago I handed Mary your baby brother…"

Dean's fists tightened. "You're his guardian… aren't you?" The man nodded. "Hell of a job you've done protecting him these past years!"  
"You must understand, Dean. Protecting the Chosen One, its futile. He chooses his fate. I merely guide."

"Then guide him to his family. Don't guide him away from the people that actually raise a goddamn finger to protect him!"

The man cast his eyes upon Dean's body.

"Do you know how you got there?" The man asked. Dean looked around for Sam, only to find he was gone from the dream.

- - -

Sam awoke with a start. Eve opened her eyes and stared at him in what might have been horror or shock.

"What… how…" She looked at Dean. "Oh my God." She took her hand of Dean's forehead and gasped. "Shoot."

"What?" Sam asked worried, panting.

"If you're awake, he should be too. Something is overriding my connection. I don't have control over it anymore…" She explained.

"Is that bad?"

"Well, if you consider possible brain damage bad, then yes, its very bad."

"How do we wake him up?" Sam asked, grabbing Dean's shoulders and giving him a rough shake.

"I don't know. Nothing like this has ever happened before." She flipped through the book. "What was the last thing you remember?"

"Dean called the man in my dream… my guardian… What's that?"

"I'll explain later. Right now you need to go back to that exact dream and get Dean out of it."

"That's impossible."

"Then your brother is going to wake up with a fraction of the few brain cells he still owns."

- - -

Dean had a sinking feeling that it wasn't a good thing that Sam was no longer in the dream. But he was getting answers. That was enough to squelch the worry for now.

"The League got to you. Blackmailed Sam for your safe return. But being the martyr you are, you sacrificed yourself."

"But you just killed me anyway…"

"Don't you see? You're Sam's weakness. With you around he has to worry about you at every turn. You're expendable in the eyes of the League. Sam is not. They won't hurt him, not until they have what they want from him." The guardian explained. "You have to let him go, Dean." The man explained.

"But…"

"No buts. I promise, if you let him go, he will come back to you someday." The man explained. "Remember what I said; it's darkest before the light."

Dean nodded.

"Now, wake up."

- - -

Dean flew into a seat position, nearly conking heads with Eve as he did so. She and Sam let out a heavy sigh.

"Do you remember who we are?" Eve asked, grabbing Dean's shoulders.

"Yes. Dumb and Dumber." He answered. "Get off me." He shrugged away her hands and got to his feet.

"What happened in there? I woke up part way…"

"I know you did, Sam! I was there!" Dean yelled. Sam looked at him worriedly.

"Are you okay? What happened?" Sam asked, getting to his feet.

"Nothing. Okay? No more answers. Just more questions." He poked Sam's chest. "But I can't believe you didn't connect that crazy blonde bitch in your dream to Meg. It's obviously her."

"I was dreaming about her before I met her." He whispered softly.

"Yeah, well you dreamed about a dead girl too." Dean muttered. "Damn its cold. Can we go inside." He took a step and stumbled, but compensated. Sam's hand found his brother's elbow. "I'm good, dude. Let go." Dean yanked his arm away and walked unaided towards the house.

Sam lingered and waited for Eve. She sighed and placed a hand on his arm. "It's okay. He'll come around, Sam. He's just worried." Sam nodded.

"I know… but I really… I need him to be open right now, you know?"

"You could walk through his dreams, if you wanted." She said with a smile. Sam smiled back and shook his head.

"Somehow seeing Dean with a bunch of leather-clad playboy bunnies in the Impala doesn't spark my fancy. I like that car… I'd never be able to get in it again."

- - -

**A/N**: In the Bandage Cuts Me Deeper, for those of you who don't want to read it… I'd love you more if you did. But when Dean was in New Orleans, he wasn't lonely. He met a girl named Janie while he was saving Josh (Eve's boyfriend) from Eve and Janie's (Oh yes, they are sisters) voodoo wielding mother, Kera. But in the story… don't read any farther if you want to read the actual story… Janie becomes sick and Dean is lured back to help her because Kera needs his heart to save her daughter. In the end, Sam saves the day, and Janie sacrifices himself to save Dean. It's crap, my first story… but it was a building block.


	6. Ch 6: I So Hate Consequences

**A/N:** So… I got a lot less reviews than I would have liked, but I'll blame it on the amazing episode of Supernatural. I know my mind was blurry for a few days. But I'd really like to get… hmm, at least fifteen reviews for this chapter. Not that hard.

**Another A/N:** Unfortunately I got grounded and I have no idea when I will be able to use the internet again… so you're going to have to be patient with the next post. Sorry. I'm just a bad kid like that, lol (actually I'm skipping school today, that's why)

**Yep, another A/N:** I mention Alice Lakwena in the below story… um, she is this woman from Africa (Uganda more specifically) who led a rebel army, now called the Lords Resistance Army (LRA) that is now led by an internationally wanted man named Joseph Koney, but anyway… Alice Lakwena said she was inhabited by a spirit called Lakwena and she led this rebels against the government… go to if you want to know more about the civil war going on and the terrible things they do to the child soldiers, it will break your heart and motivate you to make a difference in the world.

**Warning:** none

**Disclaimer:** See other chapters, the song is by Relient K

Without any further ado and no more political rants, here is the next chapter! Read and review puh-lease or I won't risk getting in bigger trouble for sneaking onto the computer.

**Chapter Six: I So Hate Consequences**

_And after all of my alibis desert me  
I just want to get by  
I don't want nothing to hurt me  
I had no idea where my head was at  
But if my heart says I'm sorry can we leave it at that  
Because I just want for all of this to end_

_And I so hate consequences  
And running from you is what my best defense is  
Consequences  
Oh God, don't make me face up to this  
And I so hate consequences  
And running from you is what my best defense is  
Cause I know that I let you down  
And I don't want to deal with that_

Dean tossed and turned all night. Every memory made sense. All the pieces were falling together in a painstakingly perfect pattern. And it all just seemed so goddamn helpless.

There was nothing he could do. He was going to lose Sam.

Dean sat up and looked over at the couch. Sam was in a deep restful sleep, his limbs in wonky places and his hair a complete mess. Dean smiled softly.

"I'm sorry, Sam." Dean whispered and slowly got up and began to pack.

- - -

Sam woke up when the heat of the sun beating down on his face became too much. He opened his eyes and stretched as he woke.

"Mmm. Good morning, Grouch." Sam whispered as he looked at the bed.

The empty bed.

His heart jumped to his throat.

"Dean?" He called warily. "You in the bathroom?" He asked.

No answer.

That's when he saw it. _The note_.  
_It_ sat there on Dean's pillow, taunting Sam with its noted-ness, and the fact that whatever was written on the inside could very well be his brother's final goodbye.

And because of Sam's sheer stubbornness and refusal to believe that Dean had really left, Sam went to breakfast.

He made it halfway to the door before he ran and snatched the note from its spot atop the pillow. His shaking, unsure hands unfolded the paper.

Paper he realized had been torn from their father's journal. He thought that maybe Dean had been right after all, about his paranoia that is, because in that moment before he read over the smudged scrawl of his big brother, he thought that maybe that single piece of blank paper that had rested within their father's tattered journal had been there for this exact purpose.

Paranoia aside, Sam unfolded the note.

_Sam, _

_Can the hypocrite stuff. I have my reasons for doing this. Knowing you—and despite what you might say, I do—none of them will be good enough to constitute my leaving, so you're just going to have to trust me. _

_The man from your dream is your guardian. His name is Rowan. Because of your gift, the League assigned you a protector. He's completely neutral. He's to you as The United States was to Britain before Pearl Harbor…_

Sam couldn't stop the laugh that escaped his lips. He knew exactly what Dean was talking about. He remembered that conversation well. It was the first night he received any insight into the twisted mind of his big brother.

_"Hey Dean… what pulled the United States into World War II?" Sam asked, his nose buried in his eighth grade World History book. _

_"A tornado." Dean grunted, flipping the page of his Sports Illustrated, Swimsuit addition. Page seventy was looking pretty good… _

_"Dean…" Sam sighed impatiently. _

_"Pearl Harbor did." Dean explained, looking over at his brother. "Japan went behind Germany's back and bombed us… but Germany was all ready going down. Basically it was the worst move ever, because we dropped the atom bomb and nearly wiped Hiroshima and Mitsubishi off the map." Dean explained. Sam laughed. _

_"I think you mean Nagasaki." He corrected. _

_"Whatever. Why'd you ask if you all ready knew?" Dean asked. Sam shrugged. _

_"I like to hear differing opinions." He explained. "What do you know about the Lend-Lease act?" _

_"The story of my life." Dean muttered. _

_"What does that mean?" _

_"Oh come on. You're Britain, Dad is Germany and I'm the United States." _Damn right I'm the best one. _"You two are always at war with each other and I aid but don't get in the middle. The Neutrality Acts, Sam. Look them up." _

_"I'm not stupid, I know about the Neutrality Acts." Sam stuck his nose back in the book and Dean stuck his nose back between the cleavage of page eighty four. _

_"You don't really feel like that, do you Dean?" Sam asked softly. Dean shrugged. _

_"Yeah, but it's not a big deal. It's my job to keep you two from killing each other." He turned and smiled that wise ass smile. "I wouldn't do it if I didn't want to." _

Sam wiped his nose with the back of his hand.

_Damn you Dean. _

…_he guides according to what you want the most. Trust him. But not too much. Keep your secrets, but go to him for advice. Rowan has saved you a lot. He won't stop now. _

_I'm doing this to keep you safe. Believe it or not, it's for the best. And when this is all over, I'll find you again. We'll find Dad again too. I'm not abandoning you, I'm letting you go. You don't need me anymore… this is the only way I can help you now. _

_There are so many things I know you want—need—to hear from me, remember your questions and I'll answer them when we see each other again. But there are a few things you need to know that I've never said and I should have. _

_One: I want to thank you. Thank you for being my brother, for being Sammy—and you'll always be Sammy so don't even try it with that Sam crap. Thank you for sticking with me through all my crap, through all my lies… through everything. You could have left, but you didn't. Especially with the heart thing. You did what I would have done. Please don't blame yourself for Marshal Hall, that's misplaced guilt. _

_Second: I've always sorta, kinda been jealous of you. And I realize that right now, with everything that you're going through, that is must sound a little ridiculous and I'm sure you're rolling your eyes at me—which bugs the hell out of me, by the way—but it's the way that I feel, and I thought it was something I should tell you, to clear the air. I did have dreams. I did want to go to college, to be normal. You know when that all changed? The day I found out the truth, about us, about you. Please don't feel any guilt over the pathetic emptiness of my life, because I loved helping you study for your SATs, I loved watching you sweat over asking a girl to prom the way I never did, I loved watching you do all the normal things you did that I chose not to do. I chose not to do them, Sam. No one forced me not to. I chose to because frankly, saving your ass and keeping you around meant a hell of a lot more to me than soccer and a lousy dance. And going to college or even getting a normal job didn't mean as much to me as seeing you happy when you got to do those things…_

Sam was definitely crying now. He'd fought against the tears until the second point.

_Damn you, Dean. _

…_Third: I am so goddamn proud of you, Sammy. You've always been special, even without your gift. Before Mom died, I remember her taking me into your room at night to say goodnight to you. Every night you'd stare a little longer, smile a little bigger and coo a little louder. I knew you were going to be smart. Even then Sammy, you were the freaking genius of the family. And I know I discouraged you from going to Stanford… it was because I was scared of losing you. Before, you'd always had me or Dad to be there to protect you, to watch out for you, but there you were on your own and that scared me senseless. But that night Sam, when you told me you got a full ride, I drove down the highway with my windows rolled down yelling "My baby brother is going to Stanford." I was that damn proud. I didn't know how to tell you, so I told the whole goddamn world. _

_I've never said it enough, and I regret it now, but the words are so hard to say and you know me and sappy moments—which reminds me, burn this letter and we're never to speak of it again—but I love you, Sammy… _

Sam pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes and took deep breaths. The bastard says it now! Of course.

_Damn you, Dean. _

… _you and Dad, you're all I got and you two mean everything to me. I just wanted—needed—you to know that. And don't go and do something stupid, like getting yourself killed. You're no good to me dead. _

_I have faith in you. I know you can do this, if anyone can, its you. Whoever chose this path for you isn't stupid, they chose the right person. I know its not fair and I know you hate the world for this Sam, but honestly, no one else could ever do this. You're the strongest person I know. And I look up to you. I respect you. _

_Be careful and remember that I am always there for you. _

_I love you. _

_Dean _

Sam sat in retrospective silence for a while, his hands still shaking violently and the hot tears coursing down his hot cheeks fell on the letter and smeared the ink.

He sat in retrospective silence as the world crashed in a chaotic quiescence and the walls he'd built around himself fell in, exposing him to everything, setting him ablaze with pain and a chilling sense of freedom.

"Damn you." He whispered, shaking his head. "Damn you!" He stood up and crinkled, mashed, squeezed the letter with all his fury and threw it at the waste basket, something inside of him hoping it would explode—like Alice Lakwena promised her rebel armies—and he'd take on the League with exploding paper and his body covered in bullet proof oil. And if perchance he happened to die, it was because God found him unclean.

_Think straight, Samantha._ His inner Jessica chided.

Damn, he was losing it.

No.

He was losing Dean.

"Damn you." The only words his mouth would mutter, so he repeated them. "Damn you!" He yelled and shook his head. He thrashed out, his victim being the poor unsuspecting walls.

If walls could talk, this one would say "ouch" as Sam drove his fist through the plaster.

"How could you?" Sam yelled to his brother who was probably half way across the state by now. "You wanted us to stick together! You wanted it! How could you leave?" He leaned against the wall, exhausted from the yelling, exhausted from the punching, exhausted from the heartbreak.

He slid down and huddled on the floor, hugging his knees to his chest. His eyes drifted to the waste basket where the ball of Dean's goodbye sat. It hadn't exploded like his paranoid mind had hoped, instead it sat there, taunting once again.

_I could be Dean's last goodbye_, **_it_** whispered.

Sam crawled to the basket and gently plucked the letter from its terrible fate among old recipes, an empty Styrofoam cup, Dean's toenail clippings—which Sam could remember clearly yelling at him for; _"Dean, do that in the bathroom! It's disgusting." _Sam had cried._ "How about I leave a few on your pillow, Princess?" _And the discussion had stopped there—and a wrapper from one of Sam's healthy granola bars_—"Fruit and rolled oats? What happened to the Frosted Peanut Butter and Chocolate kind?"_ Dean had asked.—but it was far too important to rest among trash.

Sam sat back against the wall once against and smoothed out the letter against his knee, noticing for the first time that his hand was split open and bleeding from when he had punched the wall. He looked up and behind him and winced, though he hadn't felt the pain in his hand yet, he knew it was going to hurt tomorrow.

He looked down at the letter again and stared at the somewhat smudged lettering that now had his blood splattered here and there. "Sorry, Dean." He whispered, holding the paper gently.

He read over it again, reading between the lines, looking for codes, for hidden messages. Maybe his brother had left clues—it had saved them before—to what was going on. Maybe this was a fake note—that too had happened before—and someone had taken him. _That's it._ Sam decided. Dean had been kidnapped.

And that brought about a strange comfort, a feeling of normality.

But it became all too obvious upon the discovery that Dean's suitcase and the Impala were gone, that Dean had walked out of the house on his own. He had chosen—_wanted_—to.

Sam let his chin fall to his chest in defeat.

"Sam?" A gentle whispering and a timid knock. Sam didn't lift his head, but shifted it and the dull aching that resided there told him that he had been asleep for some time.

Part of him hoped he had been dreaming.

But that wasn't Dean's voice that had woken him.

"I don't feel like talking right now, Eve." Sam explained gently. But the door opened anyway and Eve gasped. Sam felt her lifting his hand. "Oh my god, Sam."

Sam lifted his head, wincing at the sore muscles, and looked at the wall. "I'll pay for that." He muttered, referring to the huge dent.

"I'm more concerned about your hand." She explained and stretched his limp, curled in fingers, gently; checking for broken bones. "I don't think you'll need stitches…" She whispered.

Sam only stared. He stared in the way only a person who feels like they have lost everything can stare. With a primitive lust—_need_—to be held—_loved_—touched, he stared.

She had a perfectly symmetrical face, a model face and lips that reminded him of Cassie. Sam had denied it once he saw the look on Dean's face when they'd seen her and he knew instantly that his big brother had loved that girl—besides, the thought of Dean's sloppy seconds was not a pleasing one—but Sam had been instantly attracted to Cassie and her "don't mess" attitude that could have kept Dean in line the way no one else could.

But the way Eve's long eyelashes seemed to reach far enough to rest on her soft cheek was so utterly Jessica that his made him ache.

"He left for good, didn't he?" Sam whispered. Eve looked up into his eyes, searching his face. She looked back down at his hand without answering.

"You're shaking; I think you should lie down…"

"Didn't he?" Sam yelled, grabbing her wrist when she attempted to stand. She froze and looked at him, nodding slowly.

"Yes, Sam." She said strongly. "He left. But he had his reasons." She sighed and put her hand over the one that held her wrist. "Now please, come and lie down, you look like you're going to loose it."

"Damn right I'm going to lose it! The bastard just up and freaking left!" Sam yelled. Eve flinched.

"He had his reasons." She repeated and whimpered. Sam realized he was holding her wrist in a strong grip that'd leave behind bruises. He dropped her hand and stared in alarm at the way she let it fall limply to her side. "Dean knows what he's doing, Sam." She promised.

Sam scoffed in sardonic reliance.

"Have some faith, Sam."

"Screw faith." Sam whispered back and got to his feet. "I'm going to find him, and then I'm going to kill him."

- - -

Dean parked the Impala in the closest parking spot, which just happened to be next to a black Mustang. He'd dated a girl back in high school who couldn't tell the Impala from a Mustang. She'd lasted a week, she was nice, dumb, and did something weird with her tongue that made him laugh, always killing the moment.

He'd never understood how she couldn't tell the difference, to him the differences were startling.

"Thinking about your car, again?"

Dean whirled around, glaring and shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Do me a favor and don't read my mind?" Dean asked angrily, his tone implying that it wasn't much of a request or a question, but a plain command.

"I just wanted to make sure you'd done what I asked, nothing personal Dean."

Dean scoffed in the familiar cynical trust he'd heard from Sam so often, and the thought made his heart ache suddenly and he absently rubbed at his chest.

"Your heart troubling you again?"

It took Dean a moment to realize what he was implying.

_Right. My heart almost failed once. Damn, that seems like a lifetime ago. _

Dean shook his head. "No, I just think I might be coming down with something." He lied. "Tell me, when can I contact him?"

"When it's safe."

Dean sighed impatiently. "And when will that be." God, he needed to call Sammy, let him know he was okay. It was like he could feel Sam's apprehension, his fear.

"Trust me, you will know."

"How long?" Dean yelled, getting extremely impatient. What was with the Yoda like riddles? This wasn't their father.

"Could be days, could be years."

"Stop yanking me around, Rowan!" Dean ordered. "How long should I wait before I go and help!"

"You should never go…"

"You know damn well that's not going to happen."

"If he has not won by the end of next year, you may aid him." Rowan conceded.

"That long?" Dean cried, his voice almost cracking. God, he couldn't imagine not seeing or talking to Sam for over a year, not after everything they'd gone through.

"He will benefit from every moment." Rowan promise.

Dean sighed and bowed his head in defeat. He stared at his shoes, gently kicking a rock with his toes.

Rowan regarded Dean in silence. He'd always been fond of the boy. And despite the rules, he'd always saved Dean when he could. It broke his heart to do this to the boys. Though they didn't know him, he'd been with them since Sam's birth. He was their favorite teacher, the mailman, the janitor… he was always in the background, but he was always there. Of course he was always in a different form… but this was him. This body was Rowan. And this was the body he could be forever now—now that they knew him this way.

"Take care of him, Rowan." Dean whispered finally and opened the car door, ready to get back in.

"I always have."

"Yeah, you have." Dean agreed. _Please don't stop now. _He gave Rowan a weak nod of gratitude and got in the car. He went to shut it, but Rowan's hand stopped it.

"Dean?" The man asked, leaning his head down so they could make eye contact.

"What?" Dean asked impatiently, his chin sticking out indignantly. Why the hell did he feel tears coming on?

_This is the first time you'll be without me too, son. Don't do anything rash, I won't be there to guide… to save. Stay alive._ "You take care of yourself_." I couldn't stand it if you died because I couldn't protect you both. You and Sam, you're one package in my eyes. _"Sam will need you when this is all over."

Dean nodded. "Bye." He shut the door and drove away without once glancing in the rearview mirror, though his whole being begged him to do so.

He drove away from Sam, from his home.

And he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to go back.

- - -

Eve stood in front of the door, her back against it, and her arms out, trying to conceal it with her petite body. Sure, her growing stomach added slightly to her side, but not much.

Sam might have laughed if he wasn't so pissed.

"Eve, move." Sam ordered. He'd been pleasantly surprised to find the duffle bag of weapons Dean had left behind, and as much as he hated to think of pulling out that pistol in his belt against a pregnant woman… he had to find Dean. He reached back for it and Eve's eyes widened.

"Don't you dare!" She recited a quick spell and Sam stopped moving, not by choice of course. His muscles felt solid, unmovable.

"No, Sam." She ordered just as angrily. "You have to let him leave. There is a reason for all this. I can assure you there is, and this is the best option."

Fortunately his mouth muscles were working.

"No! I have to find him! He's going to die alone if I don't find him! I won't let that happen! You have to let me find him." Sam explained. Eve put her hands on her hips.

"He chose this, Sam." She reminded him. And then she added softly; "You have to let him go."

Ah, the beautiful irony.

Sam gritted his teeth. "I'm going to find him."

"Then I'll just keep you here until he's too far away."

"Don't you dare."

"You'll thank me someday." She assured him and walked closer, reaching out to touch his face. "Sam, I love Dean. Beyond words, I love him." And Sam could see it in her eyes.

She'd loved him beyond their brother/sister relationship. She _loved_ him.

"You have to believe me, I wouldn't let him get hurt. I wouldn't let him walk off into a trap." She shook her head. "I would die before I let him do that… and I love you and all, but I'd let you die before I let him die." She admitted and Sam had to smile at her brutal honesty.

"Me too." He whispered back.

"So believe me when I say that he's safe."

"I need to hear it from him."

"I know you do, I want to hear it from him too, but its too dangerous for him to contact you. You have to be patient, Sam. You'll see him again someday." She assured him. "You have lots of people looking out for you two." She smiled softly and shrugged. "Besides, I got you a consolation prize." She turned and looked at the doorway.

"Hey Sammy."

Daddy was home.

- -

YOU KNOW WHAT TO DO! REVIEW!


	7. Ch 7: Which To Bury Us Or The Hatchet

**A/N:** Next chapter. :( Doesn't everyone miss our boys? I've been basically praying that they sign Supernatural for another season. They just CANNOT leave it like that. Nope. It can't be done. I won't allow it. May 18, four days, and we will know. crossing fingers 

So, read and review. You know what to do.

**Warnings and Disclaimers: **Same as always. Song is by Relient K

**Chapter Seven: Which To Bury; Us Or The Hatchet**

I tried to move you, but you just wouldn't budge

I tried to hold your hand but you'd rather hold your grudge

I think you know what I'm getting at

you said goodbye and I just don't want you regretting that

and wisdom always chooses

these black eyes and these bruises

over the heartache that they say

never completely goes away

what happened to us

I heard that it's me we should blame

what happened to us

why didn't you stop me from turning out this way

and know that I don't hate you

and know that I don't want to fight you

and know that I'll always love you

but right now I just don't...

_- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - _

_I rarely hug my boys. _

_I rarely ever kissed them goodnight when I turned off their lights—notice I didn't say when I tucked them in. _

_I didn't tell them I loved them when I dropped them off at school or left for a hunt. _

_But in my eyes lies all that is unspoken. All that is not shown… it lies deep in my soul. Clawing for freedom and never succeeding. _

_I love my boys. I love them more than the word can convey. Love. Four letters and yet so many emotions._

_What is love? _

_Love; strong affection for another arising out of kinship or personal ties. _

_Personal ties? _

_Affection? _

_Obviously Webster didn't have two boys. _

_Love is what makes every moment so painful. Looking into my sons' eyes and seeing their love there… it hurts. I wonder if they see the depth in my eyes and hurt just the same? _

_I don't hug my boys. _

_I don't look back when I walk away. _

_I never respond to their tears. _

_I don't tell them I love them. _

_But if you look into my eyes…I love them more than words could ever express. _

_I didn't tell Sam I was proud when Stanford sent him that letter. I didn't ask him to stay. Why does my tongue betray my heart? Couldn't I have said, "Samuel, I am ordering you to stay!" He would have. He would have hated me, but he would have stayed. Even Sam, the rebellious one, does not—did not—ignore a direct order given at face value. Instead I told him if he left he'd better stay the hell gone. _

_Sammy didn't look back when he walked away. _

_Sammy didn't tell me he loved me. _

_He didn't respond to my unshed tears. _

_Sammy doesn't hug his father. _

_And then there is Dean; the perfect son in the Winchester sense. He would be a better hunter than me if not for those things he keeps around… his emotions. His emotions make him sloppy. He hesitates before a kill. That has gotten him hurt on more than one occasion. He needs to reflect after a kill… that has also gotten him hurt. He believes in good. He pretends he doesn't, but I know._

_Dean is Mary's son. She believed in the good. Dean has Mary's good heart with my tough shell. It's not a good combination. It will get him killed. _

_Sam is my son. _

_I did not want to hunt. _

_I did not want this life. _

_I did not want this life for my boys. _

_But I had no choice. _

_Mary was taken from me. _

_I have to get revenge for that. _

- - -

Dean got out of the car and hurried around to the back and got out the large vase of flowers slowly, careful not to hurt any of the roses.

_Damn, Janie if you knew how expensive roses were… _

He walked to the grave slowly and set the roses down, faking a back injury.

"Hey, Janie." He whispered and pushed his hands deep into his pockets. "It's been a few months… sorry I didn't come and visit more often… work is… well it's work." He laughed nervously.

She was dead and she still had the power to knot his stomach.

He looked absently at his ring and swallowed the lump in his throat. "Damn I miss you right now. It'd be great to have you around to talk to about all this… especially now…" He sighed. "I just… I want someone to tell me I made the right choice."

"You made the only choice." Not exactly what he wanted, but okay…

Dean felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He turned.

"Meg." He whispered and took a few steps away. She stared down at the grave.

"So, you're the girl who stole Dean Winchester's heart?" She smirked and knelt down, leaning close to the gravestone to whisper. "I hate to tell you this, but I think there is a line. You're probably… about number three or four." She read over the tombstone. "Jane… what a pretty name. Beloved sister, daughter and friend. Aw. How cute."

"You fell from a window…" Dean hissed, ignoring her taunts.

She cocked her head to the side and looked at him. "I know, that really hurt my feelings, Dean."

"Only your feelings?" Dean asked incredulously.

"I thought your brother and I were hitting it off quite nicely." She shrugged. "Not that it matters how he thinks of me, I shall have him anyway."

"You won't touch him."

"And who is going to stop me? You?" She laughed. "Oh Dean, you tragically overestimate yourself."

"I think you underestimate me." He hissed.

"Oh really?" She asked with a snicker. He nodded. "It's too bad you've got such personality flaws, we could have been close."

"Sorry, I don't like my girls that naughty."

"Oh, but Serena was that naughty." She reminded him. Dean clenched his fists.

"Don't talk about her…"

"Ooh, I hit a nerve." She said excitedly. "She's still alive, you know."

"I watched her die."

"Correction, you watched until you passed out and your Daddy just told you she died. But you know from experience that Daddy doesn't always tell the truth." She took a rose from the vase and plucked the petals, one by one, smiling at him.

"You're lying."

"Fine, maybe I am, but you're dying to know, aren't you?" He didn't answer and his silence was enough for her. "She's in Kansas now, Lawrence to be exact."

"What the hell is she doing there?" Dean snapped. Meg looked at him, and pressed her hand against her chest, laughing again.

"Oh, this is precious… you thought… oh my." She wiped away a pretend tear. "Oh Dean, she was working with us all along. She's one of us. She never loved you." She tossed the deflowered rose on the grave and winked at Dean. "Take care of yourself, Dean. We're going to need you."

He just stared at her.

"Sam's not going to come willingly, we need some leverage, you're it." She explained.

"Why the hell are you telling me this?"

"Because its fun to watch you squirm." She whispered, stepping closer, he held his ground so she took another step. She took steps until she was almost pressed up against him. "You won't know where and you won't know when, but we're coming for you." She grinned. "And I am going to have one hell of a time pushing your car off a cliff."

"I could kill you." Dean whispered, his hand going to his knife. She nodded.

"You could, but it wouldn't do any good. My essence will live on, I will still have your brother." She smiled. "Your Dad is with him, you know that?" She shuddered. "I can feel them… your brother has so much power, he has no idea. It's just bottled up, waiting to be unleashed."

"Then just go get him, stop playing with him."

"Do you think I'm stupid?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?" Dean asked with a grin. In one quick movement, or what seemed like one, Meg had his arm twisted painfully behind his back. With speed that no human should possess and speed that made Dean's head spin, she had him pined on the ground, a rock jamming painfully against his ribs.

"I'm very aware of the prophecy, Dean." She whispered. "Especially the part where he can beat us." Dean wiggled beneath her, trying to get free, but she twisted his arm harder and all movement ceased.

"Then you know that you can't kill me yet if you want to win."

"Who said anything about killing you?" She twisted a little farther and Dean groaned. "I just want to have a little fun." She gave another hard twist and dots danced in front of him when he heard the sickening crack. "One wrist… want to go for two?"  
"I'm going to kill you."

"Dream on, baby." She whispered and then got up. Dean rolled over onto his back and rested his wrist on his chest, staring up at the sky. Meg stood next to him and placed her foot on top of his wrist, gently, he bit his lower lip and glared at her. "Forget about him, Dean. He's not going to die, but he won't be Sam anymore. At least not your Sam." Was that… sorrow in her voice? Regret? Pity? "Is all this really worth getting killed over."

"I won't let you have him. I'll kill us both before I let you have him."

"Then you'll die trying."

"Better than going out like a bitch." He snapped and she pushed her foot down harder.  
"I'm trying to save your life…"

"Why?"

"Because you and your father are Sam's strongest ties to humanity… he's stronger with those ties. And since your father is just too much of a threat, you'll be the only one left. We need you to stay alive."

Dean laughed bitterly. "This is rich…" He groaned.

Another wave of hopelessness washed over him. How the hell were they going to get out of this one? Could he even consider this _one_? This was their goddamn life. Could they get out of their life and still live?

"I really, really, hate your voice." She muttered. "Now listen, and listen good or I'll break your other wrist." She knelt down, grabbing a handful of his hair and giving him the choice of a bald spot or sitting up.

He wasn't sure how girls took bald spots, so he sat up.

"You're going to go to Lawrence and meet up with Serena. She's going to get you a room and the two of you are going to catch up…"

"Be your freaking hamster? I'll die first."

"That can be easily arranged, sweetheart." She snapped. "I'm offering you a safe life, nothing will touch you…" She smiled. "Except maybe Serena, but you're all ready familiar with her touch. I'm pretty sure you enjoyed it last time, unless you can fake those." She said slyly.

"I swear to God…" She laughed at that.

"Compared to my father, God is a paraplegic five year old." She explained. "Now, be a good boy and go to Lawrence and I'll let you say goodbye to Sam before he crosses to the dark side." She laughed at her own joke and Dean rolled his eyes.

Could she be anymore pathetic?

She pulled him to his feet and directed him in the direction of his car. He turned to her and held out his wrist lamely.

"I can't drive with a broken wrist." He muttered, smiling. Thank god for injuries. She groaned with annoyance and grabbed his wrist, receiving a whimper from the oldest son of John Winchester.

"You baby." She whispered and in the weirdest feeling Dean had felt yet, his bone reformed and his wrist was as good as new. "You can drive now." She threw his wrist down. "And don't think that you'll be alone." She tapped her head. "Rowan isn't the only one who can read your mind."

- - -

_She stood outside the window, pulling her jacket tighter around her. He was inside. She could feel him. _

_She wondered if he could feel her. _

_Well, if he could, then he'd be prepared. _

_It's always more fun when they fight back, she thought. _

_She walked to the door, never pausing to knock. _

_His home is my home. _

- - -

Sam stared at his father. The last time he'd seen him, they'd all be very bloody and beaten. Now they were both healthy and their emotions were high.

Sam was scared and worried for Dean.

John was excited knowing their fight was coming to a quick conclusion.

"Dad…" Sam whispered, disbelieving. He took a step toward his father and grabbed a handful of the shoulder of his father's jacket. "You're… you're here." John smiled and nodded.

"Yeah, Sammy. I'm here." He whispered back. Sam swallowed and looked down at his father's boots. Gees, he needed new ones. Father's Day, Sam decided, he'd get his father new boots…if they were both still alive by then.

"Dad… Dean… uh, he's gone." Sam mumbled and looked at his father, expecting fear, expecting worry, expecting rage. What he saw was knowing, knowing expectation. John had known Dean was going to leave.

John nodded, "I know he's gone, Sam. It was the only way…"

"Stop saying that!" Sam yelled, stepping away from his father. "All of you! There is always another way!" John grabbed his son's arms, holding him tightly.

"Listen to me, Samuel." He demanded.

Samuel. His father only called him that when he needed him to be a man.

_Sam had never heard his brother breathing so hard. Struggling so hard to breathe, to live. And his father wasn't doing much better, but at least he was conscious. _

_"Sam, go get some towels and the first-aid kit." John ordered. Sam didn't move. "Go Sam, now!" Sam scurried to the bathroom. _

_John piled another pillow beneath Dean's head, trying to ease the pressure on his collapsed lung. God, they needed to go to a hospital, but John wasn't sure Dean would survive the drive. The roads were dirt, bumpy, and it was icy out. He got out his cell phone and dialed quickly. _

_"Caleb." John gasped into the phone. "Fine, but Dean isn't. Yeah, the cabin. Hurry." A disgraced doctor, but Caleb was the best medic they knew and he'd saved them on more than one occasion… like twenty maybe? _

_"Here, Dad." Sam whispered, throwing the towel and the kit on the bed. John nodded approvingly. _

_"Sam, I need you to do something." John whispered. Sam nodded and John swallowed. _

_"I need you to get that out of your brother's stomach." John whispered. "My grip isn't strong enough with all the blood I've lost…" _

_"Can't we leave it in until Caleb gets here?" Sam pleaded. John shook his head. _

_"It's poisoning him. _Samuel_, you need to do this. He's going to die." _

Sam didn't even remember what they'd fought or how injured he and John had been. He just remembered that John had called upon him to be a man that day, the first time of many.

And he remembered that at the age of ten he'd been forced to cause his brother terrible pain in order to save him.

_(Kinda like Dean's doing to you now, right Sammy?) _

"Dean is safe! And as much as I hate it, I have to go into hiding." He looked at Eve and she nodded knowingly. "You're going to have to be on your own, kid."

"Oh, but he'll have me."

"Meg." John said without turning around.

"Oh, you know me?" She asked happily. John turned slowly and nodded.

"You almost killed my sons; I make it my business to know their enemies." He explained. He turned to her, a gun pointed straight at her chest. She took a step back, her face contorting in surprise. But, she recovered quickly, and smiled.

"Oh Johnny, you have to know better than that." She shook her head disappointedly.

"Oh, I do." He flashed the pentagram on the side of the gun and her eye's widened. "That's right." He smiled. "This is the colt." He aimed and cocked the gun.

"John! You'll kill the girl." Eve cried.

"It's the only way." John reasoned.

"That's someone's child! John you can't be serious!"

"I guarantee that I'm doing her a favor." He aimed directly at her heart, no messing this up. There were three bullets in this gun, one for this, one for the demon and one for emergencies.

"Dad…" Sam's head was spinning. What the hell was going on?

Meg seemed to sense the danger that she was in, because she took a step back.

"I know where Dean is going." She whispered, looking directly at Sam.

Like a little boy promised candy, Sam's face lit up. John half expected something along the lines of, "Can I get it, Daddy? Please? Can I get it? Huh? Huh?" Only the "it" was Dean and the candy dealer was a demon in an innocent's girl's broken body.

"Where?" Sam hissed.

"Don't talk to her Sam, she's just trying to save her own skin." John explained, his teeth bared in anger.

"He's with Serena." Meg explained, purposely ignoring Daddy Winchester. However, both of them seemed a little shaken by that statement.

"She's dead." Sam whispered, all his voice box would muster. Meg smiled evilly and looked at John, holding his hateful gaze.

"That's what Daddy told him, but Serena is still very much alive." She shrugged. "Well, at least the demon inside her is."

"So why have I been dreaming of her?" Sam asked.

"Sam! Stop talking to her! She's just trying to bait you into…"

"Dad! Shut up! She knows where Dean is!"

John looked at his son and that's when Meg struck.

She dove at John, eyes on the colt.

"John!" Eve cried, and John pulled the trigger.

The gunshot echoed through the house, scurrying into the farthest corners of the house and ricocheting back again.

Meg staggered back, hands over the hole in her stomach. She lifted her head, tears in her eyes and blood pouring from her lips.

"You have no idea what you've just done." She made a gargling noise and fell to her knees. "You just ruined his only chance for salvation! They'll be no mercy for your boys now!" She gasped and fell forward, struggling for a few moments longer.

Then all movement ceased.

"Damn it!" John cursed and turned to Sam, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pushing him against the wall. "I told you to shut the hell up! Now you've just messed everything up!"

Sam held his father's gaze, his face blank of any emotions. "She knew where Dean was…"

"And you can't know!" John yelled, slamming Sam into the wall again. Everything was falling apart. He was going to lose both his boys if they messed up again. "You two have to journey alone! Don't you get it Sam? You'll focus on him, and you'll die. He'll be a selfless bastard and get himself killed for you! I won't let that happen, damn it. I'm trying to save both of you the only way I know how…"

And then it happened.

John Winchester crumbled.

His breath made a hitching noise and he let his head fall forward onto Sam's chest, his hands slowly falling from his son's shirt. "You've got to understand, Sammy... they're not gunna give me or your brother a second's thought. We're nothing to them, nothing but a meaningless tie to good for you, they'll want us gone." He sighed. "That's why, after tonight, we can't see each other again until this is over." John took a deep breath and composed himself. "You're going to have to be strong, Sammy."

"Dad… I can't do this on my own." _I don't want to._

"You're going to have to." _I don't want you to, either. _

"What if I can't?" _What if I'm not strong enough? _

"Don't even ask that question." _Because damn it Sam, I don't know. I just know you're my son, and this is your destiny. And I have faith in you beyond all question._ "You'll do it. And you'll have Eve and Missouri on your side… that's a lot of power behind you, kid."

"What if I fail, Dad? What if they…"

John grabbed his shoulder. "Then we'll go down together, fighting, as a family." And John pulled him into a strong hug.

_I don't hug my boys…_

_Unless I know the end is coming. _

- - -

Dean grumbled inaudibly over the television. He'd tried several times to take wrong turns, each time earning himself a painful shock through his nervous system.

He was going to kill that bitch.

Currently, he was strapped to the bed. Yes, strapped. Serena was in the kitchen, cooking God knows what.

She was just as beautiful as he remembered her. Short and thin, delicately so, with all the curves a woman was born to have. Her skin was milky white, and he just wanted to touch it. Her hair was pale blonde, paler than he remembered, like an angel's. Her cheeks were still pink, her lips were still red and her eyes were still that haunting blue he remembered so clearly.

"Chicken or beef flavor?" She called from the kitchen/dinning room/bedroom section of the hotel room.

"What ever masks the arsenic best." Dean grumbled back. Serena smiled gently at him.

"Dean, you're so silly." She cooed and grabbed a chicken flavor. Dean smirked.

_Bitch doesn't know me as well as she thinks she does._ And he took a weird comfort in that.

She poured the noodles into a bowl and walked over to him, sitting next to him. He turned his head away and she frowned.

"Dean, please. Don't be like this."

"You're not even human." Dean spat. "I… you…" He turned his head away and swallowed his words. Serena twisted the fork in the bowl and brought a forkful of steaming noodles towards his mouth, her hand held underneath it to avoid dropping any broth on his shirt.

"Eat." She ordered, her angelic voice lacking an authoritative bite. Dean looked at the noodles and shook his head. "I don't want to have to force you."

And he knew she could.

"You're going to have to, bitch." Dean spoke coldly. She sighed and set the fork back in the bowl. She leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on his forehead, he almost gasped at how cold her lips were.

She put the bowl on the bedside table and placed her hand on his chest. "Please, I don't want to have to do this. It hurts me to hurt you."

"Didn't stop you last time."

"I was doing my job."

"And I'm doing mine."

A shiver ran through her body and she closed her eyes for a minute, breathing heavily. Dean almost spoke to her, but she looked down at him again and her eyes were black as midnight.

Her hand flew out with blink-and-you'll-miss-it speed. Her grip was strong, painfully so. She forced his mouth open, leaving bruises in the wake of her fingertips and forced the fork into his mouth, scratching the roof of his mouth and barely giving him enough time to chew and swallow before she shoveled another mouthful inside, nearly spearing his lips.

After two bites, the hands fell away.

"Are you going to cooperate now?" Two voices came from her lips. The angelic one that used to send his heart aflutter, yes, Dean Winchester's heart can flutter too. And the other was something dark and evil.

He nodded and swallowed the force-fed food.

"Good." It was simply Serena now. "Why can't you always be this easy going?" She asked. "I remember you used to fight me about…"

"Don't you dare." Dean hissed. "You aren't even a person… don't act like there was something…" Dean ordered. "I'll cooperate, just don't talk to me."

"Oh, but Dean, I really did love you." She whispered. "You see, my sister, she was promised your brother, and I… well I was promised you."

"I'm not something you can own." God, did he really just say that? Dean looked over at the rope holding his wrists. Was it long enough to hang himself with?

She ran her hands over his face, lovingly. "I'm so sorry I hurt you, Dean." She whispered.

_Yeah, a wheelchair for almost a month. _

"I'm sorry I broke you."

_Two legs, a pelvis, four ribs… I've still got the scars from where they had to insert metal into my legs to reconstruct the bones. _

"Your heart…" She whispered, her hands stilling over his chest.

"Yeah, I had a heart attack, what of it?" _Don't say it, don't say it…_

"I'm sorry I broke your heart, Dean." She whispered, tears coming to her eyes. "I never wanted to… but he…"

"Your father." _The demon that killed my mother, Jessica, taking Sammy from me. Destroying everything I care about. _

"You understand, don't you?" She asked, near hysteria. "You know what it's like to follow your father's ridiculous vendettas." She shook her head. "I don't care about Sam, I don't care about destiny… none of it matters to me. I just want you."

"Sorry, I don't think your father would approve of me as his son-in-law." Dean whispered and winced when the ropes suddenly bit into his skin.

"I could protect you from him." She whispered. "I could shield you… hide you away."

"And my brother and father?"

"Only you." She whispered sadly.

"Sam dreamed about you…" Dean whispered suddenly. "You were with Rowan… you let Rowan kill me."

"I'd never." She promised. "Dean, I love you."

"But you did. How do I know you're not trying to trick me?"

"You don't. But Dean I…" She gasped suddenly. "No…" She whispered and crawled off the bed, running over to the counter.

She came back with a knife and an ancient bowl. Dean grimaced. Just the tools gave him the heeby-jeebies.

"Sorry, I have to make a call." She whispered and pressed the blade against the exposed white skin of his inner arm. Blood bubbled out and she pressed against the wound, allowing the crimson to flow into the bowl.

Just enough. Then she ran her hand over the cut and it vanished. Dean watched in horrified fascination as she began to call upon her father, stirring the blood with her finger tip.

"Father, I felt…" She shook her head. "No, it can't be. She's too smart for that." She listened. "He has it? The colt? What are we going to do, father?" She listened to her instructions, nodding. "But… isn't there another way? Do we have to hurt him?" And deep in his stomach, Dean knew they were talking about him. "Of course Father, yes. Yes. Yes. I will." She pulled her hand back and looked sadly at her betrothed.

"I'm sorry Dean. It's time." She whispered.

- - -

"You have the holy water?"

"Yes."

"Salt?"

"Of course."

"The colt?"

"Yes, Dad." Sam said exasperatedly. John nodded and clasped Sam's shoulders, examining him with teary eyes.

"My baby boy…" John whispered in disbelief. "You know, Mary always said you'd be the genius." He laughed. "You'd have the brains and Dean would have the beauty. She'd always pictured you on the cover of Time and him on the cover of GQ."

"Too bad for Dean I got both, huh?" Sam asked, surprised to find tears in his eyes as well. John laughed heartily and gave his son's shoulders a squeeze.

"You got my rugged handsomeness, Dean got his mother's beauty." John explained. "Although those puppy-dog eyes of yours are utterly your own." He laughed. "And neither Mary or I lay any claim to those freakishly long eyelashes your brother has."

And suddenly they both ached for Dean to tell them to shut up and stop being so jealous.

"We're going to save him." Sam assured his father, and assured himself. John nodded.

"I know." He smiled and brushed Sam's hair away from his face. "Since you're going to save the world and all, do you think you could get a haircut?"

"Now that's asking just too much."

"Oh my gosh, just tell each other you love each other, hug and then leave. I'm pregnant and this tearful goodbye stuff is killing me." Eve whispered as she walked out with a sack of food, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"You really shouldn't have." Sam whispered, taking the food from her. She shrugged.

"It's just me and Angie until Josh comes home, it's the least I could do." She explained. Sam peeked precariously inside.

"No. You really shouldn't have." He whispered as he feigned disgusted. She hit his arm, and then threw her arms around him, he barely had time to move the bag before she crushed it between them.

"Be careful." She whispered. "Come home to me, with Dean. And when you do, this had better all be over. I've known about it for two weeks now and I haven't stopped worrying. It's not healthy. No pressure or anything, but my and my baby's lives depend on it." He smiled sarcastically and kissed her cheek, but she slid her lips to his lips and gave him a soft and sweet kiss, a possible goodbye kiss.

He pulled away in surprise, but she smiled and he touched his lips.

"Okay lover boy." John teased. He pushed Sam towards his truck, since Dean had, of course, taken the Impala. "Get going." Sam looked at his father.

"Take care of yourself, Dad."

"You too, kiddo."

And then they hugged again.

And Sam was off.

- - -


	8. Ch 8: Heaven Forbid

**A/N:** SO! For those of you who do not know, the CW network has signed our show for another season. REJOICE FANS REJOICE! I'm happy if you can't tell.

Okay, let's make a deal. If I get fifteen reviews, I will write like crazy and post before next Thursday… maybe even this weekend. Sound fair? I think so.

**Disclaimer:** See first chapter and the song is by The Fray.

**Warnings:** Hmm… a little blood.

**Chapter Eight: Heaven Forbid**

_Twenty years, it's breaking you down_

_Now that you understand there's no one around_

_Take a breath, just take a seat_

_You're falling apart and tearing at the seems_

_Heaven forbid you end up alone_

_You don't know why_

_Hold on tight, wait for tomorrow_

_You'll be alright_

* * *

Dean woke with a start.

Very familiar surroundings, he realized instantly.

Sammy's nursery… exactly as it had been twenty two years ago. If Dean hadn't known better, he would have thought he was dreaming. But that pain in his head was very real. As was that voice.

"She was my daughter, you know." Someone whispered. Dean searched the dark room, finding no owner to the voice. "And he shot her, without a thought."

And suddenly Dean knew exactly what he was talking about.

"It wasn't like you thought twice before you put my mother on the ceiling…" A sharp pain exploded across his chest, he sucked in air through his teeth and stopped talking.

"Believe me, the pain of losing a child is nothing compared to the pain of losing a parent or a lover. No one expects to outlive their child. It's a fate no parents wants." Dean was genuinely surprised the bastard even had feelings. "She was my baby…"

"Yeah, and the body she was possessed was someone else's baby… but that didn't stop you, did it?"

"You're bitter, I understand."

"Bitter? You killed my mother … damn right I'm bitter." He fought against the ties that bound him.

"Well relax, you won't be for much longer. I'll end your pathetic excuse for a life. But don't you worry, your death will be anything but pathetic. I'm thinking implosion would be nice."

"Bite me." And he had a sickening flashback to the Benders that made his stomach lurch.

"Ooh, that was a naughty family, wasn't it?"

"Stay the hell out of my head."

"Why? When it's so fun to relive your hell-ish soap opera of a life." The demon tsk-ed disapprovingly. "Does Sammy all those bad things you did during those four years… all the people you killed?"

"The y were dangerous."

"You killed them all the same."

"To save others."

"A killer is a killer Dean, no matter what the reason. You killed, you're a monster. Just like me."

"I'm nothing like you."

"Oh really?" He sighed. "Sure, you didn't put him on the ceiling, but you killed Missy's family. You killed your best friend, you stole a man's life so you could live for a few more measly months. And if Sam hadn't been there to stop you, you would have killed an innocent Reverend… not to mention Max."

"You messed with that kid's head, didn't you?"

"Tragic. Max wasn't strong enough. He had to be exterminated. His father and uncle were supposed to do it for us, but their wills were too strong. My sons couldn't force them to kill their own flesh and blood, we had to settle with senseless beating. If we couldn't kill him physically, we settled for mentally."

"I can't wait until Sam kills you." Another flash of pain, but instead of crying out, Dean laughed.

"Hysterical so soon?" And the demon sounded truly disappointed.

"You're scared." Dean realized. "Because he has the power to beat you."

Phantom hands tore the flesh on his chest and Dean grunted in pain, looking down as blood began to flow from the cuts. The claws halted at the bottom of his ribcage and paused for a moment before turning directions and cutting upwards. Each pass brought them closer to his ribs, closer to his lungs, closer to his heart.

Dean let his head fall back and he bit down on a scream.

The hands stilled and he waited, panting, for them to continue.

But for the second time in so long, mercy found him and the hands stayed away.

"Only if he has the strength to beat you too." And the demon's presence was gone. Dean allowed himself a silence victory for pushing the right buttons.

But just as the time he'd beaten the ghosts at the Montreal Mansion, victory wasn't as sweet as he'd suspected.

It left a copper taste in his mouth.

- - -

"John, you have to go!"

"It will mess everything up!"

"Your son is going to die!"

"Better one than both!" And he hated himself for saying that.

"You're disgusting, I will go save him if I have to."

"You, a pregnant little girl." John scoffed. She turned to him, her eyes full of tears. She pounded on his chest with her small fists.

"How can you let him die? How? You're his father! You're supposed to protect him! He's your child!"

"I know he is!" John yelled, grabbing her wrists. "This kills me. But I have to think of others. So many more will die if Dean lives."

"He's your son…"

"So is Sam."

"So you're choosing?" She asked, in shock.

"The choice is being made for me." He mourned.

John Winchester was not a stranger to mourning.

Mourning greeted him with a dark wave each morning. He mourned his wife, the baby boys he never was able to have. The children who were men too fast.

He mourned a broken life no amount of repairs could ever fix.

- - -

Lawrence, Kansas.

As familiar as always.

Even though he'd only been six or seven when they left for good, Dean knew the place like the back of his hand.

Sam really wished Dean was with him right now.

The door opened before he knocked.

"Sam Winchester, well what took you so damn long?" Missouri asked, ushering him inside. "I've been inspecting you for three days now."

"Sorry, Missouri." Sam stuttered lamely. "Dean left… and Dad showed up."

"Now, don't you worry about either of those fools. They're safe." She grabbed his shoulder. "Dean's strong, Sam."

"I know he is." Sam sighed. "Would you mind if I just went up and took a nap?"

"Of course not, child. I'll call you down when dinner is ready."

He smiled sincerely and nodded, heading up the stairs.

Missouri froze in the kitchen, bent at the waist and clutched her chest. She exhaled deeply. "Oh, Dean…" She whispered, and let a single tear roll down her cheek before she wiped it away. "Be strong, child."

- - -

He'd known instantly that she was lying. Missouri couldn't lie well, you'd never imagine it, but she was a terrible actress.

Dean was in trouble.

And this latest dream confirmed it.

The demon was with him, taunting him, torturing him. He'd seen flashes, the outside surroundings… he knew where Dean was.

And it was oh so fitting.

He just hoped Jenny and her kids had gotten out okay.

"Sam, there is something on your bed, I think you should read it." Missouri yelled from downstairs.

Sam turned and looked at the note on his pillow, it reminded him of Dean's note and he absently touched his back pocket where the paper still rested.

He sat down and took the paper slowly and began to read.

- - -

_A relationship born of fire shall produce a love stronger than any before it. These star-crossed flames shall dawn two heirs. Six years and six months into the union, the League shall come forth to take what is rightfully theirs, the child with a gift more powerful than anything before, the child never meant to see the world. Though the bond of siblinghood is stronger than the bond between anything else, the League will deviate from normality and dare to sever the bond. _

_The blood of the mother shall baptize their king. She shall be cleansed in the flames that gave her life, love and her powerful sons. The king shall belong to the League and no one else. Any obstacle shall be consumed in the flames of their rule. _

_On the sixth day of the sixth month of the sixth year, the ending shall come. The League will come for their young king and if his ties of family are severed, he shall come down without a fight. But if he holds on, a fight between hell and humanity shall spring forth from the ashes of all that have fallen. _

_The eldest, the brother, shall fall. Only the king will know how to lift him up again. The fate of the father will rest upon the fate of his sons. _

_The children of the League will come forth, fighting for their promised. HE shall arise as never before and fight for which he fought to create. _

_And if the king is able to resist, the light shall break through the darkness and the storm shall pass. _

- - -

Dean remembered.

He remembered his house, every detail. So right now, he could tell this room was just recreated. It wasn't the same.

_Sam's crib wasn't against the wall. He had stars in the mobile, not clouds and birds. Flipping stars and moons, you dumb demon. _

And the ceiling was different, no doubt a result from the reconstruction. What? You thought a mother of two could burn to death up there and leave no char marks?

Dean remembered his mother. He remembered her face, her deep blue eyes that made him feel safe.

Safe in a way he'd never feel again.

He remembered her long blonde hair. He could remember touching it as a child, "pwetty" hair. It was soft and he could remember pressing his face into it when he cried.

He remembered her voice. "I love you." And he'd never met anyone else who could say those words with enough heart to make his heart swell. He remembered her laugh, a light sound that made him laugh as well.

He remembered her screaming that night. He remembered waking to her scream, scared and confused. He ran down the hall, straight to Sammy's room. He just knew instantly that little Sammy needed to be protected.

_"You're Sammy's big brother, Dean. You'll have to protect him, show him the ropes." _

And that's what he remembering wanting to do that night.

Dean remembered his mother's touch, the way she'd kiss him goodnight, hug him each morning. No one could hug or kiss him the way his mother could. She could kiss him and make all the pain go away.

Magic in the purest form.

He remembered her smell. Like gardenias.

Dean inhaled through his nose, that's what he smelled now. "You're a sick son of a bitch." Dean groaned, coughing.

"I could say the same about you… but I liked your mother. Shame I had to slice her open and burn her."

Dean forced his eyes open and stared into the yellow eyes he directed every ounce of malice in his soul toward.

"I can feel it, your hate."

"Good."

"It feels heavenly."

"I can't wait until my brother sends you back to hell, permanently."

"Like he's going to let you die."

"He'll do what's right."

"You overestimate them. Your brother and your father. They're really not as strong as you seem to think." The demon whispered, sitting down cross-legged, just to the left of Dean, who had now realized that he'd fallen to the side, too weak from bloodless to stay vertical. "Sam will fall because he won't be able to give you up."

"He's walked away before, he'll be able to do it again."

"Don't be so sure, kiddo." He touched Dean's face gently with a soft, warm hand. Dean struggled to move away from the touch, but there was no where to go.

"It's called personal space."

"You know… all the other children we've taken, they were only children. The bond between siblings is something we don't normally mess with. It's too strong."

Dean's face twitched with anger.

"It's the thing that will destroy us, or destroy the both of you." He sighed, almost regretfully. "We're both playing with fire here, Dean. It could go either way. Exciting, isn't it?"

"You're sick."

"Hunting is a sport, Dean. We're sportsmen, into the uncertainty of it all. Don't tell me that rushing into a dangerous situation doesn't get your heart pounding, your adrenaline flowing. You love it. You live for it."

There was silence.

"You can ask."

"What are you talking about?" Dean snapped, groaning as the movement of muscles in his chest rippled and caused pain to flare up once again.

"You wonder why, ask me."

"Why don't you just tell me?"

"You must ask."

"Why? Why Sam? Why our family?"

"Well." The demon's tone was one of pure delight. "It's not one thing that led us to choosing your family. There was a pattern, you see." He paused. "John never mentioned how he met your mother, did he?" Dean's silence was enough of an answer. "At a bon fire at a high school pep-rally."

"A relationship born of fire…" Dean groaned, pressing his forehead against the ground.

"You know, your mother had two failed pregnancies before you were born." The demon whispered. "You were her little miracle."

Dean lifted his head.

"Poor woman was so delusional."

He let his head fall back down.

"You were never supposed to be born, Dean. You and Samuel were flukes."

"Flukes that are going to kill you and your kind."

The invisible claws attacked him again.

This time he didn't stay conscious.

- - -

The prophecy.

The damned prophecy.

"Boy, I can feel your distress from down here, what's…" Missouri paused when she saw him sitting on the bed, the paper shaking in his unsteady hands. Sam looked up at her slowly, his eyes red rimmed and overflowing with pained tears. "Oh… you read it."

_That's all you can say? You give me this, shatter my world and that's all you can freaking say? _

"Don't think I don't hear what you don't say, Samuel."

"You know where he is." Sam whispered, staring her down, willing her to just try—just freaking try—to lie to him.

"Sam…" She whispered, a hand reaching out to comfort. He reeled away from her, jumping to his feet, backing up.

_God, he was like a frightened animal. Look at your baby boy now, John Winchester. You proud of what you've done? Look how the mighty have fallen_. Missouri pushed her spiteful thoughts to the back of her head.

"He's at the house. I'm going." Sam started to walk past her, but she grabbed his arm, shaking her head.

"Sam Winchester you will do no such thing!" She yelled.

He turned to her, desperation all over his face. "He's going to die, Missouri. All alone in that freaking house. I won't let him die like that."

"You have to, Sam. You have to let him die." And he could tell—feel—how badly it hurt her to speak those words.

"Not like that, please, not like that." Sam begged. "If he has to die," yes, desperation gets to the best of us, "I want him to die somewhere he won't be so goddamn scared. That house scares the hell out him, Missouri..."

"I know it does child, but it's too dangerous to get to him. Believe me, if there was anyway, I'd be there saving him."

"I'll find a way."

_"I'm gunna die," his face was way too pale, the dark around his eyes standing out like a death sentence. This couldn't be Dean. It couldn't… "and you can't stop it." _

_A dare? _

_Was that a dare? _

_Dean always knew Sam could never a refuse a dare. Maybe he'd baited him consciously, or maybe it was actually his ass-ish way of comfort. _

_Either way, it got Sam—hook line and sinker. _

_"Watch me." _

"You'll die."

"Then so be it, Dean is my brother. I won't let it end like this."

"Then you're going to need some help."

And for the second time in two days, John Winchester had shown up right on cue. Sam turned to him, and tears fell from his eyes. He wiped them away bitterly.

"Dad?" Sam whispered. "But I thought…"

"Damn it Sammy, we're a family. I hopped in the car and sped here twenty minutes after you left." He shrugged. "We can take an ancient league of demons, right?" He asked, laughing with tears in his eyes.

_(Gees, do these macho men take estrogen?)_

"Definitely." Sam agreed.

"You know where he is?" He asked, though Sam had a hunch John knew very well. He just wanted to know if Sam knew so he could break the news gently.

"The bastard recreated every room to look exactly like it did the last day Mom was alive…"

"How do you know that?"

"I dreamed it."

"Well, a dream is just a dream, Sam."

"Not mine Dad, they come true…"

John let this information register. There were so many questions, so many… but now was not the time. They needed to get to the house and save Dean.

Save their family.

- - -

Dean awoke to the sounds of laughter.

_Sammy… _

No. This was not joyous laughter. Or, haha, I just shaved off an eyebrow laughter. _Which he knew all too well. _

This was the laughter of revenge.

"They're coming." A whisper. "The fools are coming for you."

"No." Dean rasped, forcing himself on to one elbow. "They're coming for you."

- - -

**Now, let's get some reviews. **


	9. Ch 9: In Our Darkest Hour

**A/N:** You guys are amazing! I got 15 reviews, just like I asked! And I shall reward you, just like I promised. See! We got us a nice little system here, right?

**Another A/N:** So, let's break 100! So I need AT LEAST 6 reviews. And I apologize for the shortness, but I cut it in half at the last minute because the next chapter is very intense and I think it needs to be it's own. (Think Devil's Trap with a twist.) So, be nice, review and I shall post.

**Warnings:** Hmm... none really.

**Disclaimer:** Oh garsh, you know it by now. The song is by Phantom Planet (notice a lot of repeats of bands I use? Well, that's because my I-Pod is very limited in selection : )

**Chapter Nine: In Our Darkest Hour**

_I can't see a thing through the smoke and if I could breathe_

_I'd try not to choke_

_No where to run no where to hide no where to go_

_Sometimes I get stuck yeah I get so upset_

_I burn at the ends I learn to regret_

_We have got to get out of here_

_In our darkest hour_

_I think the end is near I can feel it_

_We have got to get out of here_

_In our darkest hour_

_When we may not make it_

* * *

John stopped the truck a block away from the house. He took a deep breath.

"Are you going to be okay?" Sam whispered, knowing very well how many times his father had been back to that house since that night.

Only once, and that was to pack all of their belongings.

"Let's just get your brother." John whispered and got out of the truck, going around to the back to get a few weapons.

Sam tucked the colt into his belt and got out of the car.

"We're going to save him." Sam whispered. _We have to. Please tell me we will. _

"Yeah." John muttered. _God I hope so._ John cocked a gun full of rock salt and looked up at his son, nodding. "We will." _Please, God. Let us survive tonight. If we get through tonight, we can get through anything._

- - -

_What'd you do? _

"You'll know soon enough."

_Don't you dare hurt them. _

"I will do what I have to."

_I'll stop you. _

"You? You're bleeding to death on the floor. What the hell could you possibly do?"

_Don't think I won't blow a hole in my head. _

"You wouldn't dare."

_The things I'd do for my family… I'd do it in a goddamn second, and you know I would. _

And for the first time the demon's voice flickered in uncertainty.

"They're here."

- - -

John walked in first, gun drawn, pointed out in front, his other hand holding a flashlight.

"Sulfur." Sam whispered, breathing through his mouth.

"It's just a fake trail. A bastard like this wouldn't leave any residue behind. He's messing with us." John whispered.

"He's in my old room." Sam whispered.

"I know." John whispered back and led his son up the stairs, to his old room. The room where their family had fallen apart forever. "Sam, stay out here." John whispered as his hand hovered uncertainly over the doorknob.

"No, I've got to help Dean…"

"Stop thinking about your brother, Sam!" John hissed. "There might be something behind this door, and I don't want you to see it." _I don't want you to see your brother dead._

Sam clenched his jaw, but nodded, just once. John gripped the doorknob, looked once at his youngest who drew the colt from his belt, ready for anything.

Except seeing his brother dead, never ready for that.

John opened the door and barged in, never one for subtly.

The room smelled of copper and charcoal.

And Dean was lying on the floor, a puddle of crimson spread out beneath him.

"Dean!" Sam cried, pushing past his father to get to his brother. John grabbed his shirt, effectively pulling him back, but not before the ripping of cloth sounded in the silent room.

"Wait." John hissed. "He might be possessed."

"Cristo." Sam whispered, and when there was no flinch, he shrugged away his father's hand and ran to his brother's side. He grabbed his brother's face. "Hey, Dean. Hey, wake up." He felt for a pulse on Dean's cooling neck.

He sighed and let his forehead drop to Dean's when he felt one.

"Holy water." John whispered when Sam looked up, having felt water drip on his head. Sam glared at the man before him.

"He's not possessed." Sam hissed, shielding Dean's body protectively.

"Come on." John whispered, finally convinced. "We have to get him out of here." John grabbed one of Dean's arm, looping it around his shoulders, while Sam did the same. "One. Two. Three." They stood, taking Dean with them.

A groan. Weak. But it was a response.

"Dean." Sam whispered, trying in vain to ignore the deep lacerations to his brother's chest. "Dean it's okay. We've got you."

"Sam?" Dean whispered. Sam smiled and nodded.

"Yeah, Dean. It's Sam."

"And… Dad?" Dean's chin had yet to rise from his chest. Sam looked at his father who was nodding, his eyes glossy.

"Yeah kid, and Dad." John whispered.

"What took you guys so damn long?" Dean asked, raising his head to smile weakly. Sam smiled back.

"Well you see, there was this bear…"

- - -

"Dad, there's a hospital close…" Sam whispered, turned in his seat, facing his brother. John shook his head.

"There isn't time." John whispered. "Missouri's got a bed ready… and I've got someone there who can take care of him."

"Who?" Sam whispered. "Caleb?"

"Caleb is dead, Sam." John whispered. "Your friend Meg, she uh, she made sure of that." John whispered. "She was trying to get the colt."

Dean groaned. Kindly stopping that discussion from going to place neither Sam nor John were ready to go.

"Just a little further, Dean. Just hang on." Sam whispered, reaching back and touching his brother's knee. "I know, I know it hurts… but just hang on."

- - -

Missouri held the door open as Sam and John nearly carried Dean to the house.

"Get him upstairs." She ordered, clutching her jacket against her chest. "Oh lord." She whispered, taking in a fast catalogue of his injuries. "The guest room, John." She yelled.

John nodded, leading the way.

The door was all ready open, the sheets folded down.

"Not on the bed, the table." A familiar whisper.

Sam froze.

"Sam, come on!" John barked.

But Sam's feet might as well have been in cement.

The man from his dreams.

Rowan.

"Sam!" John took Dean's weight and carried his oldest to the table, laying him on it gently. Rowan immediately ripped away Dean's bloodied shirt and observed the damage. He caught his lower lip between his teeth.

"I need water and towels for now. I'll need a suture kit once I'm done cleaning." He explained. John nodded and looked at Sam.

"Sam…"

"Get away from him!" Sam growled running over and grabbed Rowan's neck, shoving him against the wall. "Don't you dare touch him!"

"Sam!" John yelled, grabbing his son's shoulders. Sam turned around, decked his father and went back to choking the man who'd killed his brother a million times in his dreams.

"I won't let you kill him." Sam hissed, his face red with anger.

The man's lips moved as if he wanted to speak, but no noise came from them.

"Samuel Jonathan Winchester!" John barked and grabbed his son, yanking him away from the defenseless middle aged man. "He's not our enemy!" John yelled, pushed Sam on the bed. He looked at Rowan with concern, and was pleased to see the man was all ready back in action, sopping up some of the blood on Dean with the tatters of Dean's once favorite shirt.

"Go get the water and towels. Now Sam!" John ordered. Sam left grudgingly.

"If you hurt him… I swear I'll tear you apart." Sam promised, shooting daggers at the stranger.

- - -

**REVIEW I KNOW YOU WANT TO**


	10. Ch 10: Let It All Out

**A/N: **HOORAY. This is my first fic to break the 100 mark. I'm so excited.

**Another A/N: **So, basically this is a spin off Devil's Trap and then the story will continue into "Season Two" or the way I think it should go. hehe

**Yet another A/N: **So, I'm leaving on Wednesday for Vancouver and I won't be back until Monday… when I shall sleep all day. So, at the earliest I will post again tomorrow (but that's HIGHLY doubtful because I will be SUPER busy) and if that doesn't happen the earliest will be Monday.

**Disclaimer:** Song is by Relient K, and this show belongs to the geniuses at the WB. The story is mine.

**Warnings:** Nopey Dopey.

**Read and Review. Let's get to 125 reviews. Gracias.**

**Chapter Ten: Let It All Out**

_And you said I know that this will hurt_

_But if I don't … then things will just get worse_

_If the burden seems too much to bear_

_Remember_

_The end will justify the pain it took to get us there_

_And you promise me_

_That you believe_

_In time I will defeat this_

_Cause somewhere in me_

_There is strength_

* * *

Sam woke when something, or rather; someone grabbed his hand and squeezed it gently. A thumb running over his split and sore knuckles. It was then he remembered he'd punch a wall not more than two days ago. 

"Hey Sam." His voice was deeper somehow, and raspy. "You get into a fight with cement?" Sam lifted his head. He could see it in his brother's eyes that it pained Dean to talk.

Probably pained him to breathe too.

Dean had large white bandages wrapped around his torso and he'd lost a lot of blood, too much in Sam's opinion, but Rowan had insisted he wasn't in any immediate danger unless those cuts got infected. But he to be feeling better now that he was resting safely in the soft bed with some fluids in him.

Sam let out a huge sigh of relief and let his hand come to rest on top of the one that held his own.

"Jesus Dean, it's so good to see you again." He whispered, his words catching momentarily in his throat.

Dean couldn't quite manage his signature cocky smirk and that alighted a flame of panic somewhere inside the younger brother.

"Miss my pretty face, didja Sam?" Dean's voice scratched. Sam chuckled, though it was more of a broken sob, and nodded.

"Yeah. That and your car. Dad's truck just doesn't attract the ladies the way the Impala does." He explained, lovingly, and absently, running his hand through his brother's hair.

The panic welled when Dean didn't knock his hand away. In fact, he barely even flinched, just gave a weak smile.

"Where's the colt, Sam?" Dean asked, trying in vain to sit up. Sam let go of his brother's hand.

"Safe. Dean, what's wrong?" Sam asked, trying to force his brother to lay back down against the soft pillows. "Relax man, you're going to tear something." The volume of his voice rose, worry creeping into his tones.

Dean did relax, slightly, at least enough so he was no longer fighting against his brother, but his breathing noticeable increased and his eyes were darting about nervously.

"He's coming, Sam. You've got to get the colt…"

"I've got it, Ace. Relax." John Winchester's presence—or perhaps the colt's—seemed to put Dean at ease.

Sam exchanged a glance with his father.

A nod.

So then Sam wasn't paranoid, well, in all honesty maybe he was, but John felt it as well.

Something was… off.

Dean was different. Really different.

But in a way neither Sam nor John could ever explain. He just seemed to be lacking in everything Dean.

John raised the gun, aiming it at the heart of his bed-ridden first born. Though his grip faltered slightly under the questioning, pain filled gaze of his loyal son, it steadied quickly.

"Dad… what are you doing?" Dean asked, raising to his elbows. He looked to Sam for help.

"You're not my brother." Sam whispered, standing and stepping away from the bed slowly, never turning. He couldn't have his back to him… "You're not Dean."

"Sam… what are you…" He paused, smiling in bitter shock. He turned to his father. "Dad, come on, it's me!"

John simply shook his head, "you haven't called him Sammy once." He rationalized. "Dean always calls his brother Sammy, especially when he's hurt." John cocked the pistol and Sam's body flinched at the noise.

"Dean wouldn't have grabbed my hand. It would have been too much… he wouldn't have." Sam reasoned.

They had to be sure.

They were sure.

Right?

Well, judging by the way John Winchester was holding that gun, I'd say he was pretty damned sure.

"I was happy to see you!" Dean cried. "Jesus Christ, Sammy! For the past two days I was sure I was going to die alone in that house. Seeing you two again seemed so damn impossible." He let his voice trail off and he hung his head. "But if you're so sure, go ahead, shoot me. At least it won't be at that house, at the hands of _that_ demon."

There was an emphasis on the that which made Sam's heart lurch and miss a beat or two.

John aimed.

Sam closed his eyes.

But no shot rang out.

So Sam opened his eyes and looked questioningly to his father, who slowly let the gun fall back to his side, his face drawn with shame.

_Like, shame on me for not killing my son. (Its okay Daddy, they'll forgive you.) _

Dean, with his chin still pressed to his chest, smiled. "Thought so." He whispered and raised his head.

His hazel eyes now burned a fiery yellow.

And before John could pull the trigger and kill his son and the demon inside him, he and his youngest were pinned to the wall by invisible forces. The gun clattered away harmlessly.

"You!" John snarled when Dean got to his feet with an agility no man in his condition should have possessed. "Where is Dean?" John demanded. The demon threw his head—Dean's head—back and laughed.

Sam swallowed, thinking about how much worse this was than the shapeshifter incident. Because Dean was in there somewhere. And whatever they did to this demon, they did to Dean.

"Oh he's in here. Trapped in his own meat suit. He says "hi" by the way." He smirked. Dean's smirk with a demonic twist. Sam fought to wipe it off his brother's face. "He's been calling you sappy morons for the past half an hour."

"I don't understand…" John whispered. "We tested you…"

"Did you really think holy water and Latin would affect a demon of my power." He shook his head disappointedly, clicking his tongue. He walked over to John, standing right in front of him and leaned against the wall, one hand on the wall on either side of the hunter's head. "Come on John, I thought you were smarter than that." He taunted.

"Hey." Sam called, a smirk present on his face. "Tell Dean that we'll have him out in no time, will ya?" Sam requested. The demon grinned, twisting Dean's face into a nearly unattractive—_because we all know Dean can never be unattractive, even with those yellow eyes_—snarl.

Sam wanted to close his eyes, because he couldn't stand for Dean to be the one doing this. He couldn't watch his brother kill them.

"He'd fading fast, Johnny-Boy." The demon looked back at John. "He's dying." He whispered in John's ear, his lips nearly brushing against the old—well not old, but older—man's scraggily cheek.

"He'll outlive you."

"I'll admit," the demon pulled away and began to pace around the room, "he is a strong one. He's a fighter, your son." Pride? Was that pride in the demon's voice? He looked at John, fiery hatred burning in his eyes. "He worships you, do you know that? He'd kiss the ground you walk on to get your approval. He's nearly killed himself fighting for it." John clenched his teeth. "You've rarely done wrong in his eyes. I can count the time you let him down on one hand and not even use all five fingers." He sighed. "Ooh, this one is a biggie… Nebraska."

The demon smiled at Sam's sharp intake of breath.

"He was dying, John. You didn't even bother to pick up the phone. Did you even care when you got the message, because I know you got it Johnny!" Dean's voice was shrill, taunting, on the edge of hysteria. "What were you waiting for, huh? For Sammy to call and tell you that I died?"

The room was silent.

The demon seemed startled that Dean had somehow channeled himself into the discussion, and John smiled for he'd seen a flash when the yellow had returned to the familiar—and oh so beautiful—hazel he was familiar with.

"You're right, Dean. I should have called." John whispered. "But you should have heard the determination in your brother's voice. I knew he'd save you. And besides… do you really think Joshua would have known about Reverend LeGrange if I hadn't told him first?" John asked with a smile.

Sam couldn't help the smile that came to his face. He'd called Joshua third, but he'd apologized and politely told him he'd had no information. But then, a day later he called back with the information about Roy and his faith healing. Sam could only imagine that Joshua had called their father and John had mentioned the service.

Even absent, John Winchester took care of his boys.

"Shut up!" The demon hissed, his hands falling against the wall on either side of John's head once again. Their faces were centimeters apart, their noses almost touching.

Dean's forehead was beaded with sweat and he was panting.

"I thought he was wasting away." John whispered, his voice full of malice.

Dean's mouth twitched, the way it did when he was fighting to control his anger.

"Seems to me that he's kicking your sorry ass." John taunted. Dean grit his teeth and walked over to Sam.

"Little Sammy." He mumbled, looking him over in a way that made Sam's stomach lurch. "I bet you have a million questions for me."

"No. Just one."

"Shoot." He said with a silly grin that looked so utterly Dean it made Sam's eyes sting with tears.

"Why?" And the millions of fillers that went with that were answered with one simple sentence.

"Because I have plans for you…" He cupped Sam's chin in his hand. "Jessica and Mommy got in my way. They could protect you from me. Never underestimate the strength of a woman." He pouted when he saw the tears in Sam's eyes. "Oh, Sammy, please don't cry. It kills him to see you cry." He whispered. "You know, you don't need him, not really, and he knows that."

"I do too need him…" Sam whispered, saying it for Dean.

"But not like he needs you." The demon whispered. "You and your father, as pathetic as it is, are the only things that keep him alive. Do you know how many times your brother has held a gun to his head? Or hoped that he'd just die on one of your god forsaken hunts? But with you and Johnny-Boy still alive… he's got something to live for. He lives to keep you two alive." He shrugged. "Too bad he's dying to kill you."

Dean groaned inwardly and hunched forward, holding his sides. Sam fell from the wall as Dean fell to his knees.

"Sam! The gun!" John yelled. Sam ran and grabbed the colt.

"Sammy!" Dean gasped, panting, blood decorating his lips. "I can't… I can't hold him off…" he panted, falling forward so his forehead rested on the hardwood floor, his arms wrapped around his aching sides. He felt like he was going to rip in two, like his body wasn't big enough for the both of them.

And one cowboy was gunna have to ride off into the sunset and leave the town behind.

John too fell from the wall. He rushed over to Sam. "Give me the gun, son." John whispered while Sam watched in horror as his brother suffered. "Give me the gun." He tried to peel the gun from his youngest son's fingers, but Sam had it in a vise grip.

"Dad!" Dean cried out in anguish. "You've got to… to end this… while we've got him…" Dean rolled over onto his back, his chest heaving. "You've got to shoot me…" He whispered. John took the gun.

Sam shook his head. "No, Dad!" He yelled when he saw John raise the gun. "Dad! He's your son!" Sam tried to push his father's arm down.

"Sam! We've got to end this tonight…"

"Hurry!" Dean yelled, his eyes closed in effort.

"Dad!" Sam cried and fought his father for the gun, adrenaline giving him more power than he knew he possessed. But John hit his knee, effectively incapacitating his son, and shoved Sam to the ground.

John Winchester stalled. For the first time he hesitated to kill. He'd searched twenty one years for this demon and now he had him, but he hesitated.

Dean's back arched and his head flew back. A black cloud erupted from his mouth and Sam and John covered their faces, John stepping away and Sam curled in on himself.

The demon disappeared through the floorboards and left Dean a quivering body on the floor.

"Dean!" Sam dropped to his knees at his brother's side. There was no response as Dean's head lolled to the side, eyes closing slowly. He felt for a pulse.

One second and nothing.

Two seconds. Nothing.

Three seconds and it was there. Weak and getting weaker, but there all the same. Sam let out a shuttering breath and gathered his brother into his arms.

"Dad, we've got to get him to a hospital…" He looked up at his father who was staring at the ground in shock. "Dad! Hurry!"

"We could have had him…" He whispered. Sam got up and grabbed his father's shirt, slamming him against the wall.

"God damn it, Dad! Forget about the demon! Dean is going to die if you don't help me get him to a hospital! Is killing this demon really more important than his life?"

- - -

"Hang on, the hospital is only ten minutes away." Sam whispered, casting a glance back in the rear view mirror.

Dean was conscious now, thanks to Rowan's smelling salts. But damn, he looked like hell. He was drenched in sweat, shivering, and he looked deathly pale in the moonlight.

"I can't believe you, Sam. We could have ended it." John whispered.

"Yeah, and ended Dean too!" Sam yelled.

"He wanted to! Jesus Christ Sam, you still don't understand do you? Killing this thing is more important than anything else!"

Another glance at his bloodied brother.

"No, Sir. Not everything."

_Not you and Dean. _

_It's not worth dying over. _

"And look, we have two more bullets and we can find it again. It's gunna keep coming…"

The Impala was blind sided by a semi.

The driver's eyes were glowing a vibrant gold, a small smirk spread across his face as he held the steering wheel, smiling at his handy work.

- - -


	11. Ch 11: It Ends Tonight, Part One

A/N: So… be prepared. Death coming up. But do not fear, nothing is as it seems. The next few posts will be short, and there is going to be three parts to Chapter Eleven, part A, B and C.

Another A/N: I apologize for the huge slump in posting, I've been super busy. Oh, and I just have to say this, because it ticked me slightly… for really stupid reasons… but it did. My last story; 4 1 2 8 0 4 7 (or whatever it was… I don't exactly remember) was in NO WAY meant to be a rip off of Lost. I've never watched that show and I have no idea what numbers they are on that show, or what they mean.

Okay, now that my rant is over. Here you go!

**Disclaimer:** Song belongs to All American Rejects... right? Oops, I forgot.

**Chapter Eleven: It Ends Tonight**

_The walls start breathing_

_My minds unweaving_

_Maybe it's best you leave me alone._

_A weight is lifted_

_On this evening_

_I give the final blow._

_When darkness turns to light,_

_It ends tonight_

_It ends tonight…_

* * *

The horn was stuck.

_Christ Dean, I'm awake. Just chill. _

_Something is holding my eyelids closed. _

_And why are you punching my head? What'd I do? _

_Stop honking that damn horn! _

"Sammy…" Weak and guttural, whoever spoke was in agony. "Sammy, you awake?"

Sam opened his eyes and took a deep shuttering breath and leaned back. The horn stopped and the night was eerily quiet.

"Thank god, my head was killing me." Dean, obviously.

"Wh… at…" Sam swallowed and turned his head side to side slowly, the world he'd been away from was gray and blurry.

"You crashed my car." Dean whispered, and Sam knew Dean had tried to sound unforgiving, but his tone was soft and weak. "How's Dad?" Dean whispered. Sam looked to the side and tried his hardest—he really did—to conceal that gasp.

But Dean heard it all the same.

"Is he alive?" Dean whispered. Sam reached over, wincing as he moved, and felt their father's pulse.

Faint, but present.

John Winchester had staying power.

"For now." Sam whispered and Dean sighed heavily, his breath catching. "You okay?"

A pause, much longer than Sam would have liked.

"I… I don't know…" Dean admitted. "Sam… I can't… I can't feel much anymore. It hurt like hell for a while, but now its all kinda numb… and my left eye… all I see is red…" God, he sounded so scared.

"Can you move?"

"I've been trying…" He sighed and hit the seat in frustration. "Can you?"

"Think so." Sam whispered and managed to turn around to look at his brother. The entire side of Dean's face was covered in blood.

"I know why you see red, man." Sam whispered. "You got some glass in your eye…" Dean raised his hand weekly, but Sam knocked it down. "Don't touch it." He whispered and struggled to get out of the car.

He nearly fell out of the door, landing on hands and knees.

_Stop spinning, world. _

He attempted to stand, but that failed miserably so he crawled around to the passenger side and freed his father from the metal prison and set him on the ground, straightening his body carefully.

He crawled to the backdoor and yanked it open. The hinges screamed unforgivingly and Dean slumped to the side and fell into his brother's arms.

"Whoa, easy, easy." Sam whispered and laid Dean on the ground. Dean coughed, and Sam swore there was more blood on his clothes and pooled on the backseat than there was inside his veins.

Dean smiled at him weakly. "It's okay." He whispered. "I'm sorry I didn't do it for you." He whispered.

"Dean, what are you talking about?" Sam whispered, brushing his hand over Dean's forehead.

"The demon… I should have taken care of it… and it's okay that you didn't. Dad will get over it."

"I don't care whether or not he gets over it, I just want you to hang in there." Sam got out his cell phone.

"It won't do any good." Dean groaned, trying to curl in on himself. "They won't get here in time…"

"Don't say that…"

"Do you know how long we've been sitting there, Sam?" Dean whispered. Sam didn't answer.

_Please answer the goddamn phone. _

"An hour." Dean whispered, letting his heavy eyes close. His left eye wasn't really cooperating, and there was a deep cut in the eyelid. Sam found himself wondering how badly that was going to scar his brother's face.

_Dean wouldn't like that. Scars were a no-no when it came to his face. _

"Then hold on for two hours, Dean, you selfish bastard." Sam yelled. "Don't you dare do this! Don't you dare promise me all those things and then up and die! Don't you dare!"

Dean's chest was heaving, and Sam could tell that whatever strength he'd managed to conjure was quickly waning.

"Hey, Sammy?" Dean whispered. Sam grabbed his hand.

_"Nine one one, please state your emergency." _

"I've been in a car accident."

_Thank God_. Sam sighed. They were going to be saved! They had to be, the paramedics were going to come and save them.

_"Where are you located, Sir?" _

"On the highway, I'm not sure exactly, but we're about ten miles from the hospital… we're near Etchings Boulevard." Sam looked down at his brother who was regarding him with tearful eyes, studying his face.

_He's trying to remember me,_ Sam realized. He reached out and touched Dean's cheek, and his brother flinched slightly, but then pressed into the familiarity of it.

_"A unit will be with you shortly." _

"Hey?" Dean whispered again, coughing.

_"Please stay on the line."_ Sam threw the phone down and grasped his brother's hand with both of his, leaning closer to Dean's face.

"What, Dean?" He whispered.

"Tell Sammy…"

_Oh God, he was hysterical. _

"Tell him…" His breaths were hitching and more and more blood was bubbling from his lips. Sam squeezed his hands, nodding.

"I'll tell him, Dean. I promise."

"Tell him I love him… and I'm sorry I didn't…" he paused and swallowed, his eyes hardening with determination. "I'm sorry I wasn't the brother he wanted…"

"No, Dean. You're everything Sam wanted… I love you, Dean." Sam pressed his forehead to Dean's. "It's me, it's Sammy. I love you, Dean. Just please, please hang in there a little longer."

"I can hear the birds, Sammy." Dean whispered, a far away look on his face.

But the night was silent.

"Where are you, Dean?" Sam sobbed, tears rolling down his cheeks. He shifted Dean so his back rested against Sam's chest. He wrapped his arms around his brother and let Dean's head rest upon his shoulder. Sam turned his face so his cheek touched Dean's forehead.

"The beach. Can't you hear the seagulls, Sammy?" Dean whispered. Sam pressed his face into Dean's hair for a moment, wondering where he was going to get the strength to do this.

"I can hear the waves, can you hear the waves, Dean?" He whispered, trying to send himself back to where Dean was.

Dean shook his head, groaning slightly.

"I hear the sirens, Sammy."

And so could he. He put his hand on Dean's forehead.

"I have to go for a minute…"  
"No, don't leave…" Dean whispered, a panic in his voice that Sam had never heard before.

"I'll be right back, I promise."

"He's gunna get you, Sammy." Dean whimpered.

"Hello!" A voice yelled. Sam looked up and saw an ambulance parked along the embankment.

"Down here!" Sam yelled back.

Dean squirmed weakly in his arms.

"Shh." Sam whispered into Dean's damp hair. "It's okay. It's okay." He assured him. "Relax Dean, its over."

_What a liar. _

Because in that final moment before the paramedics came, the Impala, which Sam had been to weak too drag them both away from, caught fire

- - -

TAKE ONE: SAM

W_here am I? _

Sam's eyes flickered, but the world was spinning and gray and blurry and he gave up and closed them again.

_Screw that. _

"Sam?" A familiar voice. A female voice.

_Who? _

"Sam are you awake?" Again, so familiar and yet he couldn't place it. "Samuel Winchester if you get my hopes up one more time…"

Missouri Mosley.

"I'm up." Sam slurred and forced his eyes open. Missouri sighed heavily and grasped his hand. "Oh child…" She whispered. "Thank God." She rubbed the back of his hand and shook her head. "You scared me back to Sunday."

"It is Sunday."

Rowan.

"Will you keep your mouth shut." She hissed and looked back at Sam. "Honestly, the League must really have wanted you, to give you such an obnoxious guardian. I'm surprised one of you Winchesters haven't killed him all ready."

"It's not like I didn't try earlier." Sam rasped, and sat up—or tried—but Missouri forced him to relax with a strong hand on his shoulder.

"Don't move, Sam. You're highly medicated and pretty banged up." She explained.

"Where's Dean? And my Dad?" Sam whispered.

"Let's not worry about that at the moment, baby." She whispered as she pushed away his hair. "You've got such lovely eyes, why don't you get a haircut?"

"Where are they?" Sam prodded.

"Missouri, he needs to know." Rowan whispered. Missouri glared at him.

"Will you hush?" She hissed. "Or do I have to make you leave?"

"Know what? What do I need to know, Missouri?" Sam was on the edge of hysteria and Missouri could hear it in his voice.

"Sam." She whispered, squeezing his hand. "Your father… he was in the car when it caught fire. They were able to get him out before he suffered terrible burns… but there was some major smoke inhalation and not to mention the complications of the crash. He lapsed into a coma last night… and it doesn't look like he's going to be waking up anytime soon…" She squeezed his hand again. "But don't you worry, John Winchester has staying power." She gave him a knowing smile.

"And Dean?" Sam whispered. Missouri cast a long look at Rowan who avoided her gaze.

"The walking mouth chooses now to be silent." She muttered.

"Where is Dean?" Sam yelled.

"Sam, I want you to listen closely to me, okay?" Missouri whispered. "This is going to be a lot for you to take in, but you need to hear me. Really _hear_ me." She sighed. "When Dean was brought in, he had lost a lot of blood and was bleeding internally…" She paused and looked at Rowan. "Help here?" She asked impatiently.

"When he hit his head something ruptured." Rowan whispered. "He was bleeding out fast and in multiple places, inside and out." He explained. "They tried everything, but it just wasn't enough."

"Where is he?"

"He's dead, Sam."

For just a moment the world spun and dipped and then shattered. It shattered into a million pieces as a heavy vice settled around Sam's heart.

He swallowed as those million pieces were torn away and he doubted he'd ever find them again, much less put them together.

Hopeless.

Everything was so goddamn hopeless again.

And Dean was dead.

Dead…

Nononono. God no.

It couldn't be.

No.

"Where is he?" Sam whispered again, his eyes focused on the wall. "I want to see him."

"I requested they keep him alive, so to speak. Sam, his brain is dead but they've kept his heart beating. I knew you'd want to say goodbye." Missouri whispered, her heart caught in her throat. "I want you to understand that when you see him, he's not alive. Please, I didn't do this for you to get your hopes up. I wanted you to be able to say goodbye to him."

There was nothing.

Nothing but cold.

And a weight that he couldn't place. A weight that had settled in some unknown part of him.

And somewhere inside Samuel Winchester his light switched off and he knew it wouldn't be long before the shadows grew and he succumbed to darkness.

And when he looked up into Missouri's eyes, waiting for her to see it, to feel the darkness the way he felt it, she simply squeezed his arm.

It was too dark for her to see.

And for the first time in a long time, Sam realized he was truly alone. Outside and inside.

- - -

Missouri wheeled Sam into the room and left without a word, knowing the boy well enough to know that this was not a moment for talking.

Sam stared silently at the body of his brother.

His older brother who'd been there since the moment he'd come into the world. The older brother that'd been there through every boo-boo, every tear, every death… Dean had been there to make it better.

"Make this one better, asshole." Sam whispered, staring at Dean's pale skin. "How could you do this?" Sam asked bitterly. "We were gunna make it, remember? We were gunna find Dad together and kill that goddamn demon as a family, just like you wanted." He shook his head. "You're such a jerk."

Sam looked up and stared at Dean's hand.

"Twitch goddamnit!" He ordered. "Wake up, you bastard!" He grabbed Dean's cold hand with both of his and held the cold flesh against his hot cheek, willing his life force into his brother.

But this wasn't a cheesy movie.

And when Sam's tears fell on his brother's face, there was no magic that made it all better. The pain of loss didn't mend the fatality of a demon trying to rip out his brother's heart from the inside or annihilating the prized Impala with a semi-truck while he laid bleeding to death in the backseat.

It didn't change a damn thing.

But Sam kept crying, he kept wishing and holding onto Dean's hand, trying to keep it warm.

Dean wasn't coming back.

"Damn it." Sam sobbed.

There was so much he never got to say. Like; _I love you Dean and I'm proud to be your little brother._ Or; I _never called you while I was away because I was afraid of what you'd say, I was afraid that you were bitter, and I was afraid to admit that I didn't want that life, but I always wanted my brother, always and that will never change._ And; _I meant what I said when we were at that Asylum, but that doesn't mean I don't love you, you bastard. Never does anything mean I wouldn't gladly die if it meant you could live just a little bit longer. You're the good one, Dean. You're the good one. _

But none of that mattered anymore.

"I didn't even…" _Get to say goodbye._

Sam looked up at the face of his brother and in one heart wrenching, stomach churning moment he imagined a twitch, a blink, a smile, and then saw—with world crushing realization—that Dean really was dead.

He was shivering, he hadn't realized how cold he was until that moment.

So cold.

So alone.

"Sam?" A whisper.

Sam turned and looked at Rowan who appeared to have been there for a while. Sam wiped away his tears.

"What?" He asked rudely. Rowan took a step forward and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

_Dean, sitting in a waiting room. Dean's hand holding his own. His own still face. A breathing tube. Dean in a wheelchair. John still in a bed, but breathing. _

The vision hit him hard and so fast he wasn't sure if it was real or not.

Rowan gave him a knowing smile.

"Sometimes things aren't as they seem." He whispered and then turned and left. Sam sighed, too tried to try and figure out Rowan's cryptic-ness.

Sam let his head fall forward onto Dean's still chest. He turned his face so his cheek rested upon the silent chest cavity and he stared at the underside of Dean's chin. "Good night, Dean."

_I love you and goodbye. _

_I'm going to get him back for this. _

_He's going to pay. _

_You will be avenged. _

_And I'll see you again. _

_I promise. _


	12. Ch 11: It Ends Tonight, Part Two

**A/N:** Relax, chill, breathe. I know the last chapter was a little… horrible maybe? Ending it like that was mean of me, but it needed to be done. I guess the pathetic number of reviews was my punishment. So, here is part two and if you want me to post part three tomorrow, I want at least ten reviews. Or at the very very very minimum, seven. But if I get like, fifteen, I will crank out two chapters. That's an almost promise.

**Disclaimer:** I own nada.

**Warning:** eh, none really.

TAKE TWO: JOHN

Pain.

A pain so intense there was no way he could be dead.

Damn it.

Then it wasn't over.

John forced his eyes open and gasped.

The Impala was ruined, destroyed beyond recognition, and yet somehow he was outside, lying on the ground, safe.

"Dad?" A whisper, soft, weak and Dean. "Dad are you awake?" John groaned in reply and forced himself to his elbows. "Wait, don't try to move. You're hurt."

"Are you and Sammy okay?" John asked, for once his priorities were okay. "Where's the colt." Or maybe not.

"Who cares about the goddamn colt, Dad!" Dean screamed. "Sammy is gone!" Dean let out a pained grunt and John could his son breathing heavily, each breath congested with what John realized must have been blood.

"What do you mean, gone?" John whispered, fear taking hold for the second time in that night.

_"Dad, don't you let him kill me!" Dean screamed, his face contorted in agony. _

_John could hear his baby boy yelling in the background, faintly. The sound that occupied John's thoughts was the sound of his oldest son's flesh ripping and the small pained breaths he was taking. _

_"Dad, please…" The blood that ran over his lips was like a death mark on his body. Dean was dying and John was doing it. _

He'd never been more scared of success that he'd been at that moment.

He'd never been more scared than he'd been at that moment.

"The demon… it came and took him… just took him Dad!" Dean was hysterical. "I tried to stop him, I'm sorry…" Dean let his head fall forward and he sobbed softly.

Crying? Dean? Something else was wrong.

John forced himself upright and he crawled over to Dean who was seated on his legs awkwardly, his clothes stained a deep red, his face pale and sweating.

"Dean, how much blood have you lost?" John whispered, grasping his son's shoulder. Dean looked at his father incredulously.

"It doesn't matter! Sammy is gone!"

"Dean… you're hysterical."

"No! Sam is gone, Dad! They took him!"

"This isn't you…" John whispered. His son would not break like this, not if there was saving to be done, especially if it was Sammy saving. "Dean, how did I get out of the car?" Dean looked at his father, his wet eyes seemed dark and blank. "How did I get out of the car?"

Dean's eyes rolled back into his head and he lost consciousness. John caught his son before he hit the unforgiving ground and laid him down gently, hushing the pained, hitching breaths.

"Shh, it's okay Dean. I'm going to fix this… all of this." John promised and flipped out his phone. He dialed Missouri's house, but got static.

Same result with Rowan's cell.

It was like he was cut off from the world.

John staggered to his feet, and though he didn't want to leave Dean, he had a sinking feeling that wasn't even Dean at all.

_He was more hurt than that. _

But still, he was a father and "Dean" was his son. He knelt down and kissed Dean's forehead, touched his son's cheek and whispered; "I'm sorry."

Then he began the long trek over the embankment.

_His leg didn't hurt the way it should. _

Now he knew. Someone was doing this. Someone—or something—had projected him into this reality and had done a sloppy job. They'd suspected he'd be so angry that he'd foolishly follow the demon to find Sam.

Someone had tried to put him in a nightmare.

"You think you're so smart, don't you John?" The voice taunted.

A voice he'd never wanted to hear again.

John turned and faced himself… well, the demon actually, but the demon in his body. John stood, ready to fight, fists clenched.

The demon laughed heartily. "There's no use for me to fight you in here, in your self conscious. I never suspected you'd fall prey to this trick anyway. But you know Demons." He paused and smiled. "We'll try anything once."

"Where are my boys? Really?" John hissed.

"In the hospital Johnny-boy. You're all in comas at the moment… my children have made sure of that. You'll be pleased to know that Serena is watching Dean."

"If you hurt either of them…"

"Oh John please, this over-protective father part is getting nauseating, really. For such an independent family, you all certainly baby each other. And those teary eyes… man, I could blush." The demon taunted. "Besides… the only way they could get hurt is if they hurt themselves."

"What do you mean?"

"If they get so worked they just happen to work themselves to death. That's the point here, Johnny. Little Sammy thinks his brother is dead, and you're in a coma. I haven't begun to cook up Dean's scenario… but I can assure you, it'll do him in." He paused and took in John's reaction, but the man was a wall. "I'm thinking Sam will pull the trigger in the cabin… and we'll see what happens from there."

"They're smarter than you think, they'll figure it out."

"Just like you and Sammy figured out Dean was possessed?" The demon asked. "Face it, you're just humans. Your emotions get in the way. And your boys? Well…" He chuckled. "They're a basket of warm and fuzzy emotions."

"We're going to beat you." John hissed. The demon smiled, smirking. He took a step closer, making sure John heard him, heard the certainty in his voice and disgested it.

"You've all ready lost."


	13. Ch 11: It Ends Tonight, Part Three

A/N: Okay, so, here is the last chapter of that pitiful arc. Honestly, I have no idea where I want to go anymore. My creative juices are gone. Gone. Gone. Gone. So yeah, the story might suck for a while, but bear with me, I go through waves. (Blame it on my teachers who give us those stupid finals that determine our futures… what are they thinkin'? Oh, and tomorrow is the last day of school... and pray that my project went over well and bumps that 89.74 to an A... because if I don't make honor roll, well I may very well be disowned and being disowned means no more story.)

Anyway, this is the end of part one. And I'm not sure if I want to continue it as a new story… or just on here. Which is easier for all you? Go ahead and tell me what you'd prefer and I'll take the majority.

Oh, and one last thing. Thank you so much for all the reviews, and I know I said I'd post fast… but again, blame my teachers. Especially my chemistry teacher.

So, here you go. Read and review, but most of all enjoy.

**Warnings:** Same.

**Disclaimer:** Same.

**TAKE THREE: DEAN**

A gunshot rang out and Dean's eyes flew open as he hit the ground.

What the hell?

Dean lifted his head and saw his father lying on h is back, Sam pointing the gun at him.

Again, what the freaking hell?

Sam was rushing to his side, grabbing his arms softly. "Dean, are you okay?" Sam whispered urgently.

Dean was suddenly aware of how much pain he was in.

But he couldn't answer. He was trying to hard to shake off this déjà vu.

Their father was laughing in the middle of the room, a deep shaking laughter that alerted Dean to the fact that John wasn't alone in his "meat suit".

Déjà vu had never seemed so real before. This had happened before, differently, but so similar, he was sure, why couldn't he shake off this haze?

"Where's Dad?" The words flew from his mouth, before he'd even tried to speak. He felt the vibrations in his throat, but didn't remember using any energy to cause it.

Then it all happened slowly.

John got to his feet, his leg bending awkwardly under his weight. Dean guessed the bullet must have damaged the muscle or bone. Hell, maybe both, life seemed to be treating them that way lately.

"Oh Sammy!" He called.

Sam turned, raised the gun warningly and "John" paused and willed himself not to take a step back.

So the demon did fear. He feared that gun.

Or maybe he feared Sam.

"Sam… you gotta… Dad's in there…" Dean hissed through each wave of pain.

God it felt like something was still tearing him apart.

"I know, Dean. I know." Sam whispered softly. "He'd want us to end it, you know." Sam muttered. Dean nodded knowingly.

"Some things are more important…" Dean whispered back. That was when Sam was torn from him. "No!" Dean cried as Sam was once again pined to the wall.

But this time, there was no one to help him. Dean knew, he knew perfectly well, that he was helpless to do anything but watch.

"My son, why do you fight this?" The demon asked. "This is your destiny. It's what you were born to become. Don't you get it?" He asked. "If you embrace this… all that pain will disappear. You won't remember the pain of losing Jess, of your mother…" he looked upon Dean. "Or even of losing your brother."

"I'm right here, you bastard." Dean had tried to yell, but his voice was merely a whisper, not even that, more of rasp.

"Human emotions… feelings, they'll all be in the past. There will be nothing more to fear. Sam, you will become fear."

Sam didn't answer. He stayed silent.

And his silence was more of an answer than the demon could have ever hoped for. John's face slowly morphed into a smile. "That's it, son."

Dean struggled to sit. "No, Sammy… you can't. He's lying." Dean explained. Sam turned to him, his face stoic, but his eyes overflowing with tears.

"It's the only way to save you, Dean." Sam whispered and then turned back to the demon. Dean shook his head.

"No! Sam, we can find another way… Damn it! I'd rather die than let you do this…"

"But I wouldn't…" Sam whispered softly and let the darkness take him.

"No! Sammy, no!" Dean struggled to his feet and ran to his brother and "father", throwing himself between them.

Something that had been pulled so tight, stretched beyond capacity, snapped somewhere. It snapped and retracted in a hundred different directions.

Somehow, the ties between father and son, brother and brother, Sam and light, had been severed.

Even with Dean in the middle, trying to hold them both together.

There was a blinding flash of pain, the sound of a body hitting the ground, and then stillness.

Dean stirred on the ground when a sharp kick to the ribs forced him back in consciousness.

"Oh good, I thought you were dead." It was Sam. Dean looked up into his brother's eyes.

No. It wasn't Sammy anymore.

"Just like Daddy." Sam muttered, crouching down next to Dean, running his hand over his brother's forehead. "You could join me, you know… it's heavenly Dean, not having those pesky emotions anymore. You never knew this… but I was hurting so much. Every second killed me more and more inside. I know you saw it, I've been dying since the day you took me from school." Suddenly a terrible pain erupted in Dean's abdomen.

Dean looked down to find the source of his pain. Sam's hand. Just his touch seared through him like a white hot blade.

"That's just a taste, big brother." He mocked. "I can feel it all flowing through my veins. This is what I've been destined to do… I can't believe I was running from this."

"Sam." Dean cried out in anguish. "Please, Sammy if you're in there…"

"I'm right here, Dean. This is Sam. Look at your little brother now, Dean." Sam demanded, grabbing the collar of Dean's shirt and forcing him to sit up. "Look at what you and Dad have done to me."

Dean shook his head. "No… you wouldn't… this isn't you. Sam isn't… wouldn't. You're not my brother."

Sam's face clouded in anger and he stood, taking Dean with him. "You're right…" Sam agreed, his voice taking on a deeper, more demonic voice. "Sam is dead." Then he threw Dean against the wall.

Dean's head hit first, and his eyes closed.

He didn't try to open them again.

**TAKE FOUR: SAM AGAIN**

_"Please, Sammy if you're in there…"_ The voice seemed to carry on a phantom wind. Sam lifted his head and looked at the still dead body of Dean Winchester.

No miracles today.

"Stop it." Sam whispered, clamping his hands over his ears. "Stop coming to me!" He yelled and reached over and yanked the plug out of the wall. He listened as the machines stopped and stopped forcing Dean's heart to beat.

Sam grabbed his brother's hand. "I love you." He whispered and let his head fall forward.

_"I never want to be a vegetable, Sam." Dean has whispered after a particularly long stay at the hospital. "If I get to the point that I'll never be able to do anything on my own… just kill me. Promise?" _

_"Same goes for me." Sam had whispered. "I don't want to live trapped in my own mind like that…" My mind is too dark for that. _

"There. Now we're all free." Sam whispered and fell asleep.

**TAKE FIVE: JOHN AGAIN**

Suddenly he couldn't walk any farther. He'd gotten lost long ago and had no hope of finding his way back to Dean… not that that was really Dean anyway.

For the first time in as long as he could remember, John Winchester let his guard down. He laid down on the ground, suddenly too tired to move, and fell asleep.

- - -

She ran her wrinkled hand through her graying red hair and sighed, opening her eyes. "I told you, I can't hold all three of them…" She sighed. "John fought too hard… and Sam… well he's got those powers."

"And the brother?"

"He's got a heart of gold, father. He'd be impossible to turn."

"What now?"

She shrugged. "Now… we wait for the storm to build."

* * *

Mwah ha ha. :) I just wanted to do that.

So, yeah... start part two on a new thread? Or just this one. Whaddya think?


	14. Ch 12: In The End

**A/N:** So… this is way overdue and I'm so so so so sorry, but I have been SUPER DUPER busy. Basically… I have a tube in my leg, so hopefully that is a good reason for not being on top of my posting duties. crosses fingers Because I feel terrible, I do. And I apologize.

**A/N Part two:** So… this is part two… and yeah, it's kinda all coming at you fast, but it will slow down, and expect a conclusion! Yes! Not right away mind you, because how fun would that be? So, as always, review and I shall post again, since this huge disgusting wound on my leg is getting better and I can live without being doped up on pain medication. Ookay, I might be a little over dramatic, but I have no pain tolerance, so cut me a break. LOL

**Disclaimer:** Same as always, the song is by Linkin Park

**Warnings:** None—ooh except, beware, this may seem like it's a little Dean/Eve, and it is, but believe me…I hate it when Dean ends up with someone, he's my man, trust me, I don't think I'll put him with anyone. devilish smile So you Mary-Sue haters, no disrespeckin (sorry, I just say Malibu's Most Wanted, and I've got the Frontin' bug).

**NEW SUMMARY:** _The League will come for their young king, and a fight between hell and humanity shall spring forth from the ashes of all that have fallen. HE shall arise as never before and fight for which he fought to create. And if the king is able to resist, the light shall break through the darkness and the storm shall pass._ The Winchesters have a clean slate, and Dean has gone to extremes to make sure it stays that way. But not everyone is who they say they are, and maybe, just maybe, Dean isn't as strong as he pretends to be. When the League refuses to give up, will the "new" Winchesters be able to defeat them? Or will the perish trying?

**Part Two **

**Chapter Twelve: In The End**

I kept everything inside

And even though I tried it all fell apart  
What it meant to me will eventually be a

Memory of a time when I tried so hard  
And got so far, but in the end  
It doesn't even matter  
I had to fall to lose it all  
But in the end  
It doesn't even matter

* * *

The voice coaxed him from his stupor. 

It was foreign and oh so familiar at the same time.

Like the memory of a lost childhood friend. Not a stranger, but unfamiliar to this life.

But it spoke to him now. Touched him somehow.

"Are you going to wake up today?" A gentle touch to his… hand? Is that was that was? A hand? "I'm getting awfully lonely every day. You're much too cute to waste away like you are. And I know a certain inpatient who would love to see your smiling face."

Who? He wanted to cry. Who missed him? Who was he?

Who am I? He wondered.

Who are you?

"Your brother is resting, by the way. That's why you're stuck with me for now. Poor boy, he's absolutely exhausted, splitting his time between you and your father." She sighed. "You're being awfully selfish, staying in this coma." Her voice was light and had an air of teasing to it.

He wanted to meet the face attached to that voice.

"I know you hear me." She whispered, her hands on his face. "You respond sometimes. Two months is certainly long enough."

Two months?

"You missed his birthday, you know. I prayed you'd wake up, it would have been the best present… but you remain a vegetable." Was she bitter?

And for some unknown reason, he felt terrible about missing that person's birthday.

"I have half a mind to pull this damn plug, I bet you'd wake up if I did." She paused and then sighed, defeated. "My shift is over. You'd better be awake when I come back tomorrow." She kissed his forehead and he realized that she smelt faintly like… strawberries?

"Jessica…" The word came from his lips before he had a chance to think. The lips on his forehead stilled.

"Sam? Are you with me?"

His eyes opened slowly. The world he'd been away from for so long was blurry and gray.

"Oh my God, you are." She squealed. "Don't move."

No problems there.

"I'll go get the doctor."

- - -

"One more step, you can do it." The instructor assured him, his hands steady at the younger man's sore ribs.

"I can't." He was tired, shaking, sweaty, and he'd only made it halfway, relying mostly on the bars to walk.

Sure, he'd been torn into by invisible monster claws and then nearly crushed by a semi-truck. But since when had Can't been in Dean Winchester's vocabulary?

"I'll drop you if you don't try." The instructor promised. Dean took a deep breath and took another shaky step, wincing at the pull in his ribs. He hated the way his legs felt dead. He hated the way that he knew those metal staples running up his shin should hurt, but didn't. He hated the way he had to rely on a perfect stranger to just stand without falling.

"You're an ass." Dean grumbled. The man smiled and let Dean lean completely on the bar as he went to retrieve the wheelchair.

That damn chair, Dean hated that the most.

"But I motivate you." He corrected. "Good job today, Dean." He said softly, half carrying the man to the chair and setting him down gently.

"I took twelve retard steps."

"Better than no normal ones." He snapped. "Dean, you shouldn't even have been able to take two, but you're stronger than anyone I've ever met before. You're constantly improving, keep positive."

"Don't tell me to keep positive. My Dad and brother are in goddamn comas and I can't feel anything from the waist down. How am I supposed to stay positive?"

"You were almost dead when you got here. You're a miracle. You know you broke a county record? You were dead seven times, God must really want you on this earth."

"God doesn't give a rat's ass about me."

And yet it had been God's will that had saved him from heart failure, or at least that was what Reverend LeGrange had believed. But when does faith meld into the supernatural?

"The glass is always half full with you, isn't it Dean?" Someone asked gently. Dean turned around and smiled at her.

"My favorite nurse." He muttered. "How is he?"

"He's awake."

And Dean's world came back together.

- - -

"Now, he might not remember you."

"I don't care."

"He might be a little groggy, and he might be asleep again."

"I don't care! I just want to see him!" Dean yelled as she pushed him down the hall.

"Okay, I know you feel like you've been here long enough to run the place. But there are other patients who aren't too damn lazy to get better, so keep your voice down."

"Just let me see Sam." Dean whispered. She stopped him in front of the door and knelt down in front of his chair.

"Dean, you have to understand. He was in a coma for almost two months. He might not be himself… he might not remember things… but we have the most skilled professionals who will be here to work with him. If you can relearn to walk after everything…"

"Thanks for the sermon, father. I just want to see my brother." Dean stood up shakily, bumped her out of the way and opened the door.

Sam was awake. He was sitting up in his bed, trying in vain to turn the pages of the picture book Dean had been forced to make.

_"In case he wakes up and doesn't remember…" The doctor had told him as he requested Dean make a "memory book". _

_"But I'll be here." Dean had argued. _

_"Mr. Winchester have you ever heard that phrase? A picture is worth a thousand words? Well, we live by that." _

Dean watched Sam touch each face, his eyes squinted, trying to remember.

"Sammy?" Dean whispered, leaning against the door. Sam turned and looked at him.

"You…" Sam pointed to the picture. It was of Sam and Dean at Dean's "graduation" he'd actually been undercover as a senior in order to investigate the mysterious string of murders at the high school. But the experience had left an everlasting impression on all three of them.

"You know me?" Sam whispered. Dean nodded, taking a few steps towards Sam's bed.

"Yeah… I know you." Dean whispered.

"Are we… brothers?" Sam asked. Dean nodded again, sitting in the chair next to Sam's bed. "You're Dean."

"Yeah."

"So I'm Sam?"

"Sammy." Dean said with a smile. He'd been prepped for this, for Sam not to remember him. But it hurt more than anything he'd ever imagined. "Do you remember anything? Anything at all?"

"Jessica…" Sam whispered absently. "Who is Jessica?" He flipped through the book for a picture of her, landing on a photo of a woman with long blonde hair. "Is that her?" He asked, pointing to the picture. Dean smiled gently and shook his head.

"That's our mother." Dean corrected. He flipped to the last page and pointed. "That's Jessica." Sam smiled at the picture, flipping back and forth between Jessica and Mary, the two women in his life.

"Who is she?"

"She was your girlfriend."

"Was?" Sam asked, looking up at this stranger's—no, his brother's—eyes. Dean nodded.

"She died." He whispered.

"Is that how… I?" And Dean knew what he was asking. Dean shook his head.

"No, she died about a year ago. You, our Dad, and I… we were in a car accident." Dean explained. Sam smiled.

"You seem pretty healthy." He smirked. And Dean knew Sam was in there somewhere.

"Yeah well, what can I say? You're a pathetic weakling." He shrugged. "And besides, a coma is getting off pretty easy I'd say." _Compared to the weeks of intense pain, the grueling physical therapy and the agonizing weeks I've spent waiting for you and Dad to just twitch. _

"Were you hurt bad?" Sam asked. Dean shrugged.

"I've seen worse." Though he couldn't remember a time. "I'll be a wheelchair for a while, but I've all ready proven these Doctors wrong by walking already."

Sam was looking at the picture book again. "Is this my car?" He asked.

"Hell no. The Impala is mine… was mine…" Dean pretended to wipe away a tear. "Except she's not exactly in commission right now."

"We crash her?" Sam asked and Dean smiled.

"Yeah."

"Dean?" Sam whispered.

"Yeah, Sam."

"Where is our Dad?"

- - -

Dean had insisted on pushing Sam to their father's room. The wheelchair had proved to be an effective walker, and Sam had been intuitive enough to put on the brake each time they started going too fast and he knew Dean was falling forward.

"Alive one hour and all ready the best damn brother a guy can ask for." Dean was breathing heavily, and Sam felt something growing in the pit of his stomach. Worry? Concern? All for this guy who claimed to be his brother.

"Maybe we could get a nurse and another wheelchair?" Sam offered softly.

"That's something you're gunna have to relearn, Sammy-boy. I'm a stubborn bastard and its my way or the highway."

"Even if you're falling over exhausted?"

"Especially then." Dean grinned, somehow managed to run a hand through—over—Sam's hair. They'd cut it—shaved it actually—and there was a little length to it, but nothing compared to what it used to be. "Here we are." Dean paused in front of the door and sighed heavily, he was shaking and he doubted he'd be able to let go of the wheelchair and open the door. "Ah crap." He muttered. "This is one of the few times you'll see me ask for help, Sam, so cherish it." He sighed. "Aimee!"

She'd obviously been close, expecting this, because she was there almost instantly, with another wheelchair and capable hands to open the door.

"Look at us, two fu …"

"Okay, I excused your potty mouth before, I won't keep doing it." Aimee scolded, hitting his shoulder softly.

"Sorry. Two asses who can't even take care of themselves." Dean corrected and grudgingly sat down in the wheelchair.

"You shouldn't exert yourself like that, Dean." She said softly. "You quite possibly could rip something." She nudged him. "And with only one lung in commission."

Dean growled at her, but Sam didn't miss the glance Dean shot at him.

Why didn't he want Sam to know he was so hurt? They got in a car accident. Injuries happened in car accidents.

"I'm fine." Dean grunted angrily. "We could have made it just fine without your help."

"Yeah sure, you were falling over." Sam joked. Dean stared at him, but Sam saw those smile lines in the corner of his eyes slowly appear.

God, it's so good to have you back, Sam.

"Okay, you just dropped a brother point." Dean explained. "You bow to me, remember that."

"For some reason, I really doubt that." Sam whispered. Dean laughed heartily.

"I miss you, little brother." He mumbled, his hand resting protectively over his ribs. Aimee was watching him, her brow creased.

"I think I should take you back to your room…" She started. Dean shook his head.

"Sammy wants to see Dad… I should be there." Dean explained, staring at the door, mentally preparing himself for this.

Aimee looked pointedly at Sam.

"Actually, Dean… maybe I could do this alone?" Sam asked softly. Dean looked at his brother in disbelief, and then at Aimee who was smiling and nodding.

Dean groaned and hung his head. "Damn, you two are all ready teaming up against me." He sighed. "You really want to do this alone?" Dean asked, his green eyes shining. Sam nodded. "Okay… fine." He looked at Aimee. "Okay Minx, have your way with me."

- - -

Aimee rolled him into the room. "Just press this button if you need anyone, okay Sam?" She asked softly.

"Thank you… for that." Sam muttered. Aimee's impossibly big smile got even bigger.

"You mean your brother?" She asked. Sam nodded.

My… brother… right.

"Oh that big lug, you just have to know which buttons to press." She explained. "Now, I want you to keep on eye on him once the two of you blow this joint. He's going to have to move around like an arthritic eighty year old for quite a long time…" she punched Sam's shoulder lovingly. "And you, well, you're not going to be doing any heavy lifting any time soon either." She sighed and put her hands on her hips. "Now, if only your father would open his damn eyes, the three of you could get your lives back on track."

"Yeah… I wish I knew what track that was." Sam whispered. Aimee knelt down in front of him, a gentle hand on her knee.

"Oh Sam… you'll figure it out. And Dean is here for you, believe me, he's like a walking memory bank. That man remembers every little twitch you made during those two months, I'm sure he's capable of filling you in on all the important stuff." She laughed. "And I'm sure he'll remind you of all the embarrassing stupid stuff you did and make himself look like some kind of God."

Sam forced himself to smile.

Christ…

He was like an unwritten novel. All the pages were blank. He had the title and the dedication page—To Dean Winchester of course, he'd known the man for a few hours (technically) and he all ready felt he owed him more than his life—but that was all. It was up to him to rewrite the entire thing and he had no idea where to begin.

Sam didn't even notice that Aimee had left.

He stared at the man lying on the bed, a respirator making his chest rise and fall, a tube down his nose leading to his stomach...

Sam realized he must have been in the same shape. And Dean had had to endure this with both his brother and his father, alone, and for two whole months.

"So, I guess you're my father." Sam said gently, keeping his distance from the stranger lying unconscious a few feet from him.

Sam studied the man's face.

So many faint scars.

Too old to be from the accident.

Sam bowed his head forward as a headache attacked him suddenly.

Dean had many scars. And in those pictures, when he'd seen his own face, he'd noticed scars too.

_They stood in the grimy hotel room, just taking each other in. It'd been so long… too long. Sam's skin still tingled from their embrace. _

_He hadn't hugged his father in so long… too long. _

_Then the shadows came. The shadows tore their father from them, and then they turned on the brothers. _

_"No!" _

Sam lifted his head with a gasp and stared at his father in horror. The broken movie still playing in his head.

What did they do?

"Who… who are we?" Sam whispered.

And John's answer came in the form of a twitching finger.

- - -

_We're **not** going to go down like this_, Dean promised himself. The two—_three_—of us are going to walk/wheel—_whatever the hell_—out of this damn hospital, **_together_**, and start again.

Yeah, that's right, start fresh.

Sam couldn't remember a damn thing, and Dean would give up fixing the Impala—which was never going to happen, even if he hit bankruptcy like those ass-faces at the bank sad—before he told Sam the truth and ruined the kid all over again. They had a real chance this time, especially if John had a few holes in his memory too.

Dean was more than willing to pretend away the last twenty six years if it meant keeping his surviving family together and alive.

He could just see it, "oh and by the way, we kill ghosts and demons for a living because the biggest and baddest demon in the history of demonic activity has this huge ass cult and they want you because you're their king according to this legend that says Dad and I are going to die and you're going to become the root of all evil. Oh yeah, and basically, you've been living your whole life with the blood of Mom and Jessica on your hands—forehead—and even though they died because they loved you, it's totally not your fault. I just thought you should know. Now let's go kill it together as one big happy family!"

Yeah, that'd get both of them one way tickets to the mad house.

So, instead, he'd rewritten their lives and cut out all the bad things. Dad was in the army, so explaining his "good little soldier" policy and unattached parenting and their constant moving, not to mention a few scars. Their house burnt down because of a blown fuse, nothing else. He figured he could BS anything else on the fly if he needed to.

Oh, and another big thing he'd done, he'd called Missouri and asked a big favor.

"Dean, child, how are you?" Missouri had nearly yelled into the phone. Dean grinned.

"Fine, Missouri."

"You're a liar, boy. I can feel your pain from here. Tell those godforsaken doctors to up your pain meds." She demanded. Dean laughed softly.

"I'm just sticking around for therapy and for Sam and my Dad." Dean explained.

"They're going to pull through this, I know it. I can feel it."

"Well then, that's a damn good sign." Dean said honestly.

"But you didn't just call to chat, did you Dean?" She asked slyly. Dean shook his head, and normally would have felt stupid since she couldn't see it, but he had a feeling she knew he'd done it.

"Actually, I need a favor, Missouri." Dean threaded his hand through his messy hair and let his head droop forward. "Sam doesn't remember a thing, he's essentially a blank slate… and I don't want to re-write him the same way."

"Dean…"

"Just hear me out, Missouri." Dean pleaded. "That life,"

"Your life, Dean." She corrected. "The only life the three of you have ever known. You can't just change that."

"That life almost killed them." Dean whispered, ignoring her last tirade. "It did in a way." He added. "I won't, I can't just let it all happen again. If they recover from this, Missouri, you know them. They're going to go after it again, and it will kill them. It's going to kill Dad, and me, and then take Sammy. I won't let that happen."

"What are you going to do, Dean?" Missouri yelled. "You can lie to him, but he's got gifts! Gifts you can't explain without telling him the truth!"

"That's where the favor comes in." Dean said softly. "Is there anyway you could… give them to me?"

There was silence on the other line.

"Missouri?"

"You're asking me to dabble in dark magic, Dean." Missouri asked. "I'm not strong enough to do that." She admitted. "It'd pull me in."

"Then find me someone who can do it."

"You're not meant for those abilities, Dean." Missouri explained softly. "You won't be able to handle it."

"You calling me inadequate, Missouri?" Dean teased.

"This is no laughing matter, Dean Winchester!" Missouri roared. "I don't think you understand what you're asking! You'll be taking on a whole part of your brother! Not only will it connect him to you, but you'll be taking on more than you're meant to and he'll have less, leaving him even more open to darkness's seduction."

"I'll find a way to shield him, and besides, I'll be there to protect him."

"Not for long, I'm afraid… Dean, you may not survive something like these. The sheer power of Sam's visions could kill someone not prepared for them. Sam was genetically altered to be able to withstand those visions."

"I don't care." Dean admitted. "I have to try this." He listened to Missouri's lengthy sigh. "Are you going to help me, or not?"

The answer didn't come immediately, but when it did, it was strong and final. "No, I will not help you with this one, Dean. And I pray, for your sake, that no one else agrees to help you either. Please, find another way."

Dean hung up after that.

- - -

After that option fell through, Dean fell back to plan B. That one had panned out, thankfully because after that, his options were slim and unreliable.

"Thanks for doing this, Eve." Dean whispered as she helped him lay back on the bed. She nodded, smiling softly, trying to work around the bulge of an eight month pregnant stomach.

"I don't think it's a very good idea." She admitted. "But, if you think it will help protect your family…"

"I do." Dean said honestly. Eve nodded.

"Then I have faith in your choice." But the quiver in her voice spoke otherwise. "You have his blood?" She asked. Dean nodded and handed her the vial he had "borrowed" from his comatose brother.

"What do I do?" Dean whispered, lying back.

"Unbutton your shirt." She whispered back, lighting the candles and turning off the lights. She pulled out the knife that had been blessed by every Shaman in her blood line and set it on the bed. She then poured the vial of Sam's blood into a stone bowl, like the Priestesses before used mix potions, and dipped her finger in. Dean trembled slightly in remembrance of the crazy bitch Meg.

"I'm just putting his blood on the blade." She explained as she then ran her finger over the blade, nearly covering it in crimson.

She looked at him, her eyes flashing in the light of the candles and if they weren't both so scared, on so many different levels, they might have thrown away all the freaky voodoo crap and had their way with each other, but this was important, life or death essentially.

"Now, this may sting." She warned and pressed the blade just under his sternum. "Blood to blood." She said quietly, dragging the knife down in a straight line, splitting the skin and drawing blood. "What once belonged to one, now belongs to both. Blood to blood. Seal this bond." She stopped the blade just about his bellybutton and then ran it back up, only this time, the cut closed itself. "Blood to blood. Protect them both." She stopped right before the cut was completely sealed and grabbed Dean's pendant, touching it to the blood—his and Sam's blood—and blessing it. Then she sealed the cut.

The pendant shimmer softly and then returned to normal.

"There, you're done." She whispered. Dean sat up, buttoning his shirt. Eve got off the bed and blew out the candles.

"Eve?" Dean asked softly. She turned, her long hair cascading over her shoulder as she did so. "Where is Josh?"

Her eyes fell to the floor. Dean got off the bed and they stood across the room from each other, their hearts beating in the silent intensity of the moment. "Eve?"

"Let's just say this child won't know its real father."

And that was all the answer Dean ever needed. He walked over to her and lifted her chin slowly.

"He's crazy to leave you." Dean whispered. She smiled softly, her eyes filling with tears.

"I always thought he was crazy to love me." She admitted, her hands falling upon her stomach, connecting with the baby growing inside her. "Angela is spending some time with him this week… him and his new girlfriend. He met her in the army." She shook her head. "The jerk! Seven months pregnant and he uses that "I didn't plan for this to happen" excuse on me." She put her face in her hands and cried softly.

Dean wrapped strong arms around her.

"If it means anything… I'll be here." Dean whispered. "For the baby…" the last part was spoken softly, awkwardly, but with more raw emotion than Dean Winchester knew he possessed. "For you…"

Eve looked into his eyes, and their gaze locked.

And as their lips drifted closer, Dean realized that she had those same eyes, the same eyes he'd fallen in love with. Janie's eyes.

He pulled away, and turned his face, eyes falling to the crimson colored carpet. "I'm… I'm sorry, I can't." He whispered.

She nodded, her lips twitching between a frown and a bitter smile. She put her hand on his arm. "It's all right… we shouldn't… it's… it's wrong."

There.

She'd said it.

He had been in love with her sister, her now dead sister. She was almost popping out a kid, the second with her soon to be ex-husband.

She was a dark Priestess with an addiction to dark magic, an addiction she'd carry in her blood.

He was a soldier against the darkness, heart and soul. He set out to kill anything evil, anything that threatened his family.

They were night and day.

They could only meet in shadows, and shadows fade.

It couldn't be.

And they just had to accept it.

Dean nodded, leaned forward to kiss her forehead, and then left.

She fell to her knees and sobbed, her head falling into her hands.

He stayed by the door, his forehead pressed to the almond colored oak, listening, aching for her. But then he remember his mission, he remembered Sammy, and left without stopping or looking back once.

When Dean was four, he learned there are some paths in life that he cannot travel.

After his first hunt, Dean realized he'd never live a normal life or travel a beaten path.

After his first kill, Dean realized he'd walk a path traveled only by his father, himself and Sam. But then, and until recently, that had been enough.

It wasn't until that moment that he'd finally realized that now, he was traveling alone.

- - -

* * *

So, please excuse the errors, I have no Beta and I can't correct my own work, it's a peeve of mine. So yeah, sorry. Oh, and the chapter was origninally going to be a one shot on its own, with the beginning as my version of how season two should start, but I was out of ideas so I combined it with this story. So yeah! Here is the love child. 

Leave me a message and make me smile!


	15. Ch 13: Red Sam

**A/N:** Okay, so this is a pretty monstrous chapter simply because I got WAY carried away and I didn't want to cut it because I figured if I gave you a meaty chapter, maybe I'd get some meaty reviews, and more of them instead the pathetic number I got last time. And that really made me paranoid, because I started a new half, and I wasn't sure if anyone liked it or not. Yeah, so please, review for me, tell me if you like it.

**A/N:** Good news, I actually know where I'm taking this story now. I planned it all out. Yay me.

**A/N:** So, there is a little flashback to Sam's time at Stanford coming up and I used their lingo (which is on their sight) and it's all explained down at the bottom. I wanted it to seem like he was very comfortable and at home, so I used their lingo. Anyway, on to the reading and reviewing.

Warning: Slight sexual references… uh, I think that's it mostly.

Disclaimer: Just for fun. Song is by Flyleaf (they're good, check them out if you haven't)

**Chapter Thirteen: Red Sam**

Here I stand  
Empty hands  
Wishing my wrists were bleeding  
To stop the pain from abating

There you stood  
Holding me  
Waiting for me to notice you

But who are you  
You are the truth (you are the truth)  
Out screaming these lies  
You are the truth (you are the truth)  
Saving my life

The warmth of your embrace  
Melts my frostbitten spirit  
You speak the truth and I hear it  
The words are I love you  
And I have to believe in you

* * *

Aimee threw the card down. "I win." She said with a smile. Dean frowned.

"I thought we were playing poker." He said softly, staring at the Ace of Diamonds she'd just thrown down. She smiled.

"We were. I win." She declared and got up. "Besides, it's time for your nap anyway."

"Dude, I'm not seven." Dean grumbled. Aimee put her hands on her hips and cocked her head to the side.

"Dude," she mocked. "I'm not giving you a choice." She explained. "It's either that, or the sponge bath." Dean pretended to think about it, but before his mouth could pronounce the "spooo" for the beginning of his most obvious answer, Aimee added something else. "And I'm just about off duty, Nurse Alder will being giving you your bath."

"You mean the hermaphrodite with huge boobs and chin hair?" Dean muttered. Aimee punched his chest. "Jesus, girl, no wonder I'm still here! You're going to kill me!"

"Cry me a river, you bitch." She smiled and then stood up when some commotion outside caught her ear.

"What's going on?" Dean asked, his fears for his father and his brother spiking instantly. Aimee smiled reassuringly at her most attractive patient… well, ever.

"Don't worry, Dean. Sam is better, and there is no reason for your father's health to decrease."

"You mean besides the fact that he's been completely unresponsive for two months."

"I really don't like your attitude."

"It's the highlight of your day." Dean insisted with a cheesy smile.

"You wish." She stuck her head out the hall and grabbed the nearest nurse. "Hey Pattie, what's going on?" She asked.

Pattie, the hermaphrodite with huge boobs and chin hair, as Dean had called her, stopped and Aimee left the room, shutting the door behind her. Dean sighed.

"I never hear the good stuff."

**OUTSIDE DEAN'S ROOM**

"Oh Aimee, its amazing." She whispered. "You know the comatose patient, the father of those boys who've been nursing?"

"John Winchester." Aimee corrected her. Pattie nodded.

"He woke up."

- - -

Aimee walked back inside slowly and watched from the doorway as Dean struggled to get into the bed.

She'd learned the hard way not to offer assistance. So she watched worriedly, praying he didn't fall or something.

Once her patient was safely lying down she walked over to his side, sat down and fished out his hand from under the covers.

"Dean," she began. He stared at their conjoined hands.

"What are you doing?" He asked curiously and she squeezed his hand.

"Your father," but he cut her off.

"What about him? Is he okay?" Dean started to get up. "Jesus, what happened…"

"He moved, Dean." Aimee said quickly and watched a million different emotions play across Dean Winchester's face. "When Sam was with him, he moved and now the doctors are prepping for his return to consciousness, they think its going to happen."

The million emotions continued on loop.

_He moved! That's great! Now we can be a family again. _

_But he's going to want to get back to hunting, what if he ruins what I've all ready started? What if he wants to put Sammy back in danger again. _

_What if this is another false hope thing? What if he just spasmed or something like last time. Can I really afford to get my hopes up again? _

_He moved for Sam. The son who doesn't remember him. I spent five goddamn years—by myself—at that man's side and in the five goddamn seconds Sam is with him, he wakes up?_

"Dean?" Aimee asked, and he barely noticed that her hand and traveled to his thigh. "Are you all right?"

"I want to see him."

- - -

After dropping Dean off at his father's room, where John Winchester's eyes were fluttering and he responded to the sound of his sons' voices, she disappeared into a room.

She walked over to the man lying on the gurney. The dead man. They'd just pulled the sheet over his face and were going out to tell the family the bad news.

Aimee ran her hand up the body, hovering only centimeters from the sheet, until her hand paused over the body's face. She grabbed the sheet and yanked it down, revealing the all ready discolored flesh beneath it.

The man couldn't have been more than thirty, native America, with beautiful hair. She smiled and ran her hand over his features.

"Your blood will not go to waste." She promised him and then pulled the knife from her jacket. She sliced open his neck, letting the blood pool into her cupped hand.

"This is a new connection between us, child." Father has whispered as he repaired the body, attempting to rejuvenate the soul.

"Father… I tried, I'm sorry."

"Shh, daughter." He whispered, stroking her forehead. "It's all right. We underestimated them, it will not happen again."

"This body… its dead… you cannot heal it."

"That's all right, I have found you a new one." He smiled.

With this new connection, there was no need for the ceremonious calling cup. Blood was all that was necessary, as long as it wasn't hers.

"Father," she whispered. "John Winchester is awake."

Aimee smiled, it was time to get her revenge on the man who had almost killed her. He had done away with her body, and her identity.

She was Aimee now, but the complete madness behind that delicate smile was utterly Meg.

**ONE MONTH LATER**

"You okay?" Sam asked, looking up from his book, at his brother who was sitting on the end of the motel bed, rubbing his temples.

"Yeah," he nodded. "Just a headache. Get me some aspirin, will ya?" Dean asked. Sam nodded, setting his book down and walking over to the counter and retrieving the bottle of brandless pain reliever. He opened it for Dean, knowing his brother had always been foiled by those nasty child protection things.

"Here." Sam handed him two pills and a bottle of water. Dean was about to say something along the lines of "more", but Sam was stern. "You only need two." Dean couldn't help but smile as he took the offerings.

"Yes, Mother." He muttered and tossed the pills back with a sip of water. He groaned and fell back on his bed, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes.

"You've been getting them a lot lately." Sam mused, trying to sound innocent and less like an interrogator.

"I've been stressed, Sam." Dean explained. "Dad is re-learning how to live, in case you've missed that. You're insisting on going back to college, and I've been working at the most godforsaken place ever."

"You done?" Sam asked, a smile on his face. Dean shook his head.

"No, I'm not." He insisted. "And you, Mother-Hen, won't give me more than two aspirin when it feels like someone is driving ice picks through both my eyes and jerking them around." Dean sighed.

"Done now?" Sam asked, putting the book down once more and rising to his feet. Dean nodded. "Good, because I have good news."

Dean raised his eyebrows, indicating that he was listening.

"I've saved a little extra money from that… horrible job experience I had." Sam explained and watched Dean smile.

Sam had applied to work at a restaurant, a real nice place, and every table was served a salad first. It was Sam's job to serve said salad, but he was supposed to toss it, make it look fancy. Well, those little tong instruments he was supposed to use were designed for right handed folk, which Sam found out just did not work for him. (You see, Sam and Dean are both ambidextrous, though Sam tends to favor his left, while Dean favors his right) Needless to say, he ended up throwing salad on two very important customers, the manager's father and mother in law. And when he went to clean it up, he just made matters worse by tipping over the lady's wine glass into her lap and then leaning over the candle and catching his uniform on fire. It was a complete disaster.

Sam quit before they could fire him.

"And well, I want to take you to dinner, since I did miss your birthday and all and now that I actually can remember your birthday." Sam said happily.

It was true, he was remembering much more. He could tell you his life story, of course leaving out small details such as insignificant camping trips or his fifth grade teacher.

Oh yeah, and the fact that they were supernatural hunters.

Dean wasn't sure how Sam had managed to forget about remembering that, but he was thankful for it. Part of him suspected it was mostly because Sam didn't want to remember it, not that he couldn't.

Either way he wasn't complaining because at least it left Sam out of trouble. Dean on the other hand, was continuing to hunt, mostly at night or when Sam was at the library studying for his entrance exam.

That's right, Sam was trying to get back into Stanford, much to the dismay of his older brother. Dean was quite uneasy about letting Sam out of his sight for too long, he wasn't sure what could happen.

Dean looked at his brother, his eyes shining with an excitement Dean had missed, and groaned.

"Sam," he whined.

"Come on, it's a burger joint." Sam teased. "Just come on, man. You're not eating as much and I'm getting kinda worried in all honesty. Just let me take you to dinner."

"Kinda sounds like a date to me." Dean teased. Sam smiled at him and shrugged.

"Call it whatever you want." Sam said as he walked towards the bathroom. "I'm just offering you a free burger and a free beer."

"Get your coat then and let's go."

- - -

Dean ordered a cheeseburger with bacon and onion rings. Sam had caved and let him get a nice Corona.

"I love you little brother, you know that?" Dean asked and sipped from the bottle. Sam nodded and absently ran his fry through his ketchup.

"Mmm hmm." He mumbled.

"Dean, Dean Winchester?" Someone asked. Sam and Dean both looked up to see a young woman standing there.

"Emile." Dean said with a smile and got to his feet to greet her. "Hey, how are you?" She smiled and swept a piece of hair behind her ear.

"Good, I'm good." She explained, nodding her head. "How are you?"

"The same." He smiled and looked at Sam. "Emile, this is my brother Sam. Sam this is Emile."

They shared a smile and a "nice to meet you" "oh and you too". Before an awkward silence settled.

"So, I just wanted to thank you again for doing that job for me. That gh…"

"Yeah, no problem." Dean cut her off. She frowned slightly. "Well, it was great seeing you again." She nodded, still frowning.

"Yeah, you too. Bye." Dean waited for her to leave and then sat down, ignoring Sam's stare.

"What'd you help her with?" Sam asked curiously. Dean shrugged, staring at his food.

"Her spark plugs were shot, she brought in her car and I fixed it free of charge." Dean explained. (Oh that's right, Dean Winchester works at a garage, the same garage where his baby is getting repaired.)

"Oh. So, how is the Impala coming along?" Sam asked. Dean sighed.

"Not good." He admitted. " Her parts are really hard to find, not to mention expensive. I'm almost thinking about putting her in a garage and waiting to fix her, because we don't have that kind of money. Especially with you going back…"

"I'll wait on that if you want to get your car."

"I can't ask you to do that."

"I'm offering." Sam said strongly and leaned forward to whisper to Dean. "I get that this isn't going to be easy for you, me leaving, and I want to make it the easiest it can be." He smiled. "I figure if you get your car, you won't be as lonely."

"Oh Sammy, you know a car could never take your place." Dean cooed. "She can't buy me dinners."

Sam smiled at him. "But honestly Dean, I'd do it."

"Thanks for the offer Sam, but no."

- - -

"You go ahead, I'll meet you there." Dean called over his shoulder as he left Sam outside their father's recovery room.

Dean rounded the corner and small hands grabbed his shirt collar and yanked him into a room. He was shoved against the closed door and a body was pressed close to his.

"What are you doing here?" A voice hissed in his ear, lips touching his earlobe. Hands slid down his chest, over his abs.

Dean licked his lower lip and let the corner of his mouth twitch into a grin. "I came to see my Dad, and maybe you."

Aimee smiled and kissed him hard on the lips. "I've missed you." She whispered. "You don't come around as often anymore."

Dean shrugged and ran his hands down her back. "I don't see any need to, honestly. Dad is in good hands." He lifted one of her hands to his mouth and kissed it. "And Sam is out, I'm good…"

"Except for that little addiction you've developed. Dean, if you're still in pain, maybe you should let someone check up on you…"

"It's my headaches. It's just stress." Dean lied with the grace and flawlessness of an Oscar winning actor. "They'll stop once my family is right again."

Right again? When could this family ever be right again?

She bit her lip. "I don't feel right giving it to you."

"Then don't." Dean cooed. "But you know as well as I do that I'm perfectly capable of stealing it." He kissed her cheek. "And if I do that, well, I will probably apprehend lethal doses and then I'll die. You won't want that on your shoulders."

She slapped his chest. "You're a mean man, Dean Winchester." She pouted and handed him a bag. "There are some extra supplies in there, since you come in less and less lately."

"Thanks. I appreciate this." Dean whispered, taking a peek at the syringes and vials of morphine. He looked up to see Aimee staring at him, appraising him, his condition. She put her hand on the top of his head and tipped his head back to get a better look at the new cut on his forehead.

"What happened here?" She asked curiously. Dean smiled cutely.

"I hit my head on the underside of a car. That's a dangerous job, that mechanic job." He lied and stuffed the bag into the back of his pants.

"It sure is." She said, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Well, I should go." Dean said and kissed her forehead. "See you soon." Then he left and Aimee smiled wickedly.

The morphine dulled his pain yes, but it dulled him, dulled Dean.

And Dean was Sam's best defense against them. Little did the older brother know that he was leaving Sam more vulnerable than he'd ever been.

_You're not helping anyone here, Dean. _

_You're killing yourself and taking Sammy with you. _

- - -

Sam sat down beside his father's bed. The man was coming back to himself. He was still unconscious most of the time, but he had his moments.

He couldn't speak well, maybe three words at a time, all horribly slurred and nearly inaudible. His movements are sluggish or jerky and he has yet to regain feeling in his left side.

But it's Dad and that's good enough for the boys.

"Hey, Dad." Sam said with a smile and as his father's eyes flickered open. John let his head roll to the side and he smiled at his youngest.

"San-ee." John mumbled. Sam nodded and grasped his father's hand tightly.

"Yeah, its Sam."

"Dean?" John asked, looking around the room. Sam squeezed his hand reassuringly.

"He'll be right back. He…" Sam realized he didn't know what Dean was doing. "He'll be back." Sam clarified.

They held each other's gaze for a while and Sam watched a smile come to his father's face.

"Hi." John said softly. Sam laughed and smiled back.

"Hi." And all those bitter feelings he barely remembered having, dispersed and somehow, Sam felt lighter. Like all that pain and guilt weighing on his soul was finally gone.

"The…. Coh…t." John stammered. Sam frowned and leaned closer.

"Coat?" Sam asked. John gave a grunt of disapproval. "Cold?" Sam asked. "What Dad, I don't…"

The door opened and Dean came in with a smile on his face. He saw their little meeting and his smile disappeared.

"You're awake." Dean said with a grin. "You normally save that for your private visits with Sammy-boy."

And they all heard the bitter betrayal there.

"Dean…" John muttered, and somehow Dean knew what his father wanted to say. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Well, Sam we should probably go. I have to be at work…"

"Don't… go…"

Dean cleared his throat and looked away from his father. "We have to. We'll come around soon, Dad." Dean left with that and Sam looked apologetically at his father.

"He's been really stressed lately with everything." Sam explained. "Work is taking a lot out of him, and me wanting to go back to school… and he's been getting these chronic headaches and these bad nightmares…"

The sparkle in John's eye made Sam think his father knew more about this than either of them did.

Unfortunately that was locked away in John's mind along with many other things that would bring the real Sam back. Not this diet Sam.

All the personality, none of the supernatural flavors.

Sam smiled and let go of his father's hand. "Go back to sleep, Dad. We'll visit again soon. Promise."

- - -

Dean was waiting outside, leaning against the Impala.

"What the hell is your problem, Dean?" Sam yelled, walking towards him. Dean looked up at that and shrugged.

"What are you…"

"You know very well what I'm talking about. You're treating Dad like crap, you barely talk to him and you act like he betrayed you somehow by waking up!" Sam yelled. "Now, talk to me and tell me what the hell is going on in that messed up head of yours."

Dean stared at his brother, considering, honestly considering to let Sam have it. To just let it all out and scream at his brother. Instead he smirked and shook his head, snorting in disgust.

"You wouldn't get it, Sam." Dean insisted.

Sam held out his arms at his side, cocking his head to the side. "Try me."

"Just drop it, Sam. Alright? Drop it." Dean ordered and got into the car. Sam bit at his lower lip angrily before getting into the car and slamming the door. "Don't." Dean warned.

"What?" Sam snapped, turning to look at his brother.

"Don't throw this little pissy routine with me, Sam. I'm sick of it and it needs to stop. For good. You have a problem with me, you tell me, don't act like a little bitch." Dean said angrily, poking his brother's chest.

"Shouldn't that go the same way?" Sam asked.

"I don't have a problem with _you_." Dean insisted. Sam rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, whatever Dean." Sam slumped down in his seat and propped his knees against the dash, turning to look out the window.

_"You kill me, you kill Daddy too." John hissed, his eyes glowing yellow. Sam stood strong, a gun raised. _

_"I know." And he fired the ancient looking gun. The Colt. And the bullet hit his father's leg, sending John to the floor. _

_The gun was discarded and Sam ran to his brother's side. Dean was on the ground, arms wrapped around his bloodied middle, eyes half lidded. _

_"Dean, hey." Sam said softly, soothingly. But that front shattered instantly when he saw all the blood. All that red. "Oh god, you've lost a lot of blood." _

_"Where's Dad?" Dean asked, gritting his teeth out of pain, his chin stained red from the blood streaming from his lips. _

_"He's right here, he's right here Dean." _

_"Go check on him…" Dean whispered, more blood coating his teeth. Sam's face crumbled slightly and he hesitated. _

_"Dean?" _

_"Go check on him." Dean's voice was weaker, but more persistent somehow. Sam still hesitated, but strayed over to the prone form of his father. _

_"Dad?" Nothing. "Dad?" _

_Suddenly John lifted his head. "Sammy!" He screamed, face strained and teeth bared in struggle. "It's still alive. It's inside me. I can feel it. You shoot me. You shoot me in the heart son! Do it now!" _

_Sam raised the Colt and cocked it. _

_"Sam, don't you do it!" Dean cried, fighting the darkness edging towards him tooth and nail. _

_And the battle raged on. John crying for the end, Dean crying for another day together and Sam wanted both. _

_In the end, his family meant more. _

Sam gasped from the sudden rush and grasped his head in his hands. Dean's hand was strong on his shoulder.

"Sam, say something! Sammy!" Dean yelled, his eyes wide with concern. Sam took a deep breath; he was shaking and felt sweat between his shoulder blades.

"I… shot Dad?" Sam whispered brokenly. The hand on his shoulder jerked and Sam looked at Dean, his face taking on a milky white hue as though he were about to be sick. Sam swallowed and it hurt, his throat scratchy and dry.

"What… what are you talking about, Sam?" Dean whispered. "You never… Christ…" Dean let go of his brother and ran his hands over his face. "It was just a nightmare…"

"Dean! I'm awake!" Sam cried. Dean hit the steering wheel.

"I know! Damn it I know that!" Dean yelled back. "Just… just… oh God." He got out of the car and walked to the edge of the parking lot, muttering and swearing to himself, pulling at his hair.

Sam watched him from the car, wondering if his brother was about to have a break down. He closed his eyes and tried to recount the… nightmare as Dean had called it. But it was all fuzzy. None of the details were there, just the gist. Sam had shot his father and his brother had been dying.

He'd seen it.

And according to this dream—memory—he'd lived it too.

- - -

Dean paced back and forth.

Damn it. The walls were falling in on his plan all ready! Some mystical priestess Eve turned out to be.

He looked down at his hands. They were shaking and his head was pounding. His heart was going to beat out of his chest and his stomach was churning and—_Jesus Christ calm the hell down, Dean._

He took a deep breath. "Just calm down. You can fix this. You can… somehow." Dean felt a hand on his shoulder and he whirled around, grabbing the wrist of the violator and twisting it until it was shoved against the person's back.

"Ow! Damn it Dean, it's me!" Sam yelped. Dean let go and took a few steps back, his hands in the air like he'd broken Sam's wrist instead of merely twisting it.

"Sorry, Sam. I'm sorry." Dean mumbled, shaking his head.

"Dean, calm down, it's fine." Sam whispered soothingly, rubbing his wrist. Dean shook his head.

"No Sam it's not fine!" Dean cried and Sam flinched at the unnatural tone of his brother's voice. So upset, so… scared. "Nothings fine anymore!"

"Dean…"

"And you don't get it!" Dean yelled, mostly to himself, a hysterical smile on his face. "You don't freaking understand and that's my fault." He sat down on the curb and put her head in h is hands. "Everything is my fault…"

Sam sat down next to his brother and gripped his shoulder with one hand, his bicep with the other. "Dean, look at me." Sam demanded.

Dean snorted. "Don't try it, Sammy."

"Look at me." Sam demanded once more. Slowly and grudgingly, Dean lifted his head and looked at his brother. "It's not your fault." Dean smiled at his brother's naivety and shook his head.

"You don't even _know_, Sam." And Dean's voice almost sounded like a wail. "You don't… you don't remember and that's my fault."

"So you drove the semi into the Impala, huh?" Sam asked. Dean looked at him with a creased brow.

"No, but I…"

"Then you didn't do it. It's not your fault." Sam insisted. Dean shook his head, letting it fall between his hands again. He rubbed at his temples.

Sam watched the slow gentle circles of Dean's fingers turn into rough gouging circles. "Dean, hey, stop!" Sam demanded and knocked Dean's hands down. "What are you doing?"

God, had Dean really lost it? What the hell was going on with him?

Sam was scared. Really and truly scared out of his mind because he knew this wasn't Dean. He knew his brother well enough, he had enough memories in his damaged brain to know that this wasn't his brother.

"These headaches, Sammy." Dean whispered, his eyes closed tightly. "They're driving me crazy."

Sam stood up, still holding his brother's arm and hoisted Dean to his feet. His brother staggered slightly, but Sam held him up.

"Come on then, let's go back to the motel and I'll get you some aspirin."

"Can I have more than two this time, Ma?" Dean asked meekly. Sam smiled and shrugged, one hand still on his brother's arm.

It worried him that Dean wasn't trying to shove him off.

"If you're a good boy, I'll consider it." Sam kept his face stone serious and Dean grunted in amusement.

- - -

"Tea?" Eve asked softly, her hand resting over her stomach. She was seven months along.

God it seemed like years since she'd been able to wear normal jeans.

"Yes please." Missouri said gently, eyeing the kitchen. Eve nodded and poured some of the hot water into a mug and dropped in a tea bag. She handed it to Missouri. "Why thank you, child."

Eve smiled and nodded. Missouri reminded her of her Grandma Isabella. Eve sat down slowly, her stomach was quite an obstacle, and looked at Missouri.

"Not that it isn't great to finally meet you in person, Miss Mosley," Eve started. Missouri lifted her hand.

"Missouri, please. No need to be so formal."

"Alright, Missouri. Like I said, not that this isn't a wonderful surprise. But what are you doing here?" Eve asked.

"You get right to the point, don't you?" Missouri asked. Eve shrugged.

"I assume we're going to discuss Sam or Dean. If one of them died, I want to know fast so I don't have time to work myself up." Eve explained. "But that's all ready happened, so just tell me. Dean's dead, isn't he?"

"No, honey no. That idiot is still alive." Missouri explained and watched Eve exhale. Missouri stared at her for a minute, appraising her. "You love him." She realized. Eve rested her face in her hands.

"Yeah." She nodded, whispering. "But we can't… it's not possible."

"Anything is possible. The Winchesters are proof of that." Missouri reminded her. Eve shook her head.

"No disrespect, but I don't think you understand who I am… what I am. He kills things like me. What I am, I can't change it and neither can he." She shrugged. "We're as different as night and day. We accept it."

"Dean Winchester rarely accepts things unless they're what he wants."

"Then I guess this is what he wants." Eve snapped and then stared at the steaming cup of tea. A few moments of silence past and Eve spoke again. "So, if you're not delivering me their death certificates, why are you here?"

"A few months ago, Dean contacted me and asked a quite large favor of me." Missouri explained. "He asked me to take away Sam's abilities and transfer them to him." Missouri paused to gauge Eve's reaction.

The girl managed to stay unreadable.

"And as you know, that's dark magic, something I've always avoided." Missouri sighed. "But I know the boy and I knew he wasn't going to give up when I said no. Now, I know what you are, and what you do… so I had a feeling he'd probably come to you." Missouri leaned closer. "Eve, did you do it?"

Eve took a while to answer before she whispered a "yes."

Missouri sighed heavily and sat back against the chair. "Honey, I understand you love the boy… but what you did will _kill_ him."

"I know." Eve said simply, getting up and walking towards the sink to rinse the dishes. "That's why I only gave him the visions."

"So Sam…" Missouri was interrupted.

"Is still telekinetic?" Eve asked and Missouri nodded. "Yeah, he is."

- - -

Dean grit his teeth and he tied the string tightly around his upper arm. He flexed a few times and then filled the syringe. He tapped the glass and expelled any air bubbles before finding his vein and injecting the glorious morphine into his blood stream.

He untied the string and flexed a few more times before stripping down and getting into the shower.

As the water got hotter and he washed away the stench of that major huge chick-flick meltdown, he felt the drugs taking hold and calming him, dulling any, and all pain. He closed his eyes and braced himself against the wall.

He had another hunt tonight. Some black dog that was frightening the children or some crap like that. In and out. It'd be simple.

But the damn headache.

Would a little more morphine really be that bad?

- - -

Sam was working at his laptop when Dean sauntered out of the bathroom, looking clean and fresh and… happy.

"Feel better?" Sam asked, looking up from Stanford's webpage. Dean nodded and grabbed his jacket off the back of a chair.

"Yep." He explained and he swung it around his back and slipped his arms into it. He grabbed his shoes and sat down on the bed to put them on.

"Are you going somewhere?" Sam asked curiously, shutting the laptop. Dean nodded, but didn't look up from tying his shoelace.

"Someone has to put bread on the table, Sammy-boy. I've got work. You knew that. I wrote it on the calendar last week." Dean explained, nodding his head at the swimsuit edition sports-illustrated calendar on the wall.

Sure enough, on the space for Thursday—today—were the words "Dean: work 7-closing". Sam sighed. He didn't really want to let Dean go, not after what had happened today.

"Are you sure you're feeling up to it?" Sam asked softly. No, of course he couldn't say what he really wanted to. I don't want you to go. I'm worried.

Dean nodded. "Like I said, someone needs to make the money you eat away." He teased. But that just made Sam remember how little Dean had been eating.

Sam tossed Dean a paper sack. "Then take this with you."

"You made me a lunch?" Dean asked incredulously, peering at the contents. Sam laughed and nodded.

"Kinda, but its more a dinner/breakfast type thing." Sam explained, trying to lighten the seriousness of the gesture.

"Thanks, but why don't you save it? I don't have a lunch break or anything…"

"I doubt the garage will be swarming with work this late at night, Dean." Sam said honestly. Dean nodded.

"Thanks, but no thanks." Dean tossed the bag back on the bed and started to walk towards the door.

"Dean, come on…" Sam's voice was close to pleading. "Man, you're sick or something. These headaches… you're not eating…"

"I'm not hungry, Sam. I eat when I'm hungry." Dean explained. "Stop treating me like I'm five, okay? You're pissing me off."

"And you're worrying me, Dean." Sam yelled. "Look, you don't understand. Dude, you're the only person I have right now." Sam sighed and ran a hand over his face. "I'm lost, Dean. I don't… I have holes in my memory, I don't remember my life man. You're the only person I remember having that… that family thing with. Dean, I can't lose you, okay? I can't." Sam explained. Dean softened and he walked over and placed his hand on Sam's shoulder and gave him a reassuring squeeze.

"You're not going to lose anybody, Sam." Dean promised and groaned jokingly as Sam pulled them into a hug. "Do you remember that I hate touchy-feely moments?" Dean whispered after a good two seconds of hugging.

Sam laughed and nodded. "Yeah, that much I remember." He whispered and reluctantly let go.

"Gees, all that to get me to eat your stinking lunch." Dean grumbled and Sam's smile grew bigger. "If this sandwich is dry I'm going to kick your ass." Dean threatened before walking out the door, he paused before he shut it. "Don't wait up, okay? I might go grab a beer with the guys… so don't worry. I'll call you if I get hammered." He teased and then left.

Sam sighed heavily and sat back down in his chair, feeling less stressed and emotionally lighter.

He re-opened his laptop and returned to the Stanford website. He smiled at the off white background and maroon lettering. He looked at the small collage of pictures, of the parties, the flags team and the graduates and he knew (but didn't really _know_) that he had been part of that once.

And he wanted to be part of that again.

He read the introduction out loud to the room "Located between San Francisco and San Jose in the heart of Silicon Valley, Stanford University is recognized as one of the world's leading research and teaching institutions."

- - -

_"Sam! Come on!" Jessica called, tossing her hair up into the ponytail. "The Big Game is about to start." She explained. _

_"I don't see why we have to go." Sam whined. Jessica pouted mockingly and walked backwards towards the door. _

_"Because, Samantha." She drawled. "This is the biggest game of the year, not the mention the last. Don't you want to watch Chris cream some of the Berkley boys?" _

_"Are we going to go Fountain Hopping this time?" Sam asked, pulling on his coat. Jessica nodded excitedly, she always looked forward to this type of stuff. She was an avid member of the ASSU (Associate Students of Stanford University), Stanford's student government . _

_"Of course we are. And I'm going to push you right into The Claw." She smiled. Sam shook his head. _

_"No way, we'll get caught. The RAs are all over that tonight." Sam reminded her. Jessica shrugged and opened the door. _

_"I know all the RAs, I'll promise them some beers at Co Ho." She grabbed his hands and pulled him out the door. _

_"It's Dead Week, Jess." Sam whined. "We should be studying for finals." Jessica rolled her eyes and walked close to him as they walked to pick up Greg. _

_"Greg! Get your ass out here!" Jessica yelled, pounding on his window. Thankfully Greg was on the floor level with a window against the sidewalk. _

_Greg opened the window and looked at them. "Dude, I can't go." _

_"Why not?" Jessica asked, truly disappointed. "Don't leave me with the Mope all night." She begged. Sam tickled her sides until she socked him in the stomach and kissed his forehead when he pinched forward._

_"He's probably studying for finals, like we should be doing." Sam explained. Greg shook his head._

_"Actually I'm working on my article for The Daily… you know about that PAA who died last week?" Greg asked. "Cherrie talked about it on The Zoo last week." _

_Sam nodded. "Right… what did they say happened to her again?" He asked and received a weird look from Jessica. _

_Greg shrugged. "Murder of some kind. Real gruesome too. She was at her family's cabin, they think maybe a bear or maybe Freddie Kruger." Jessica crossed her arms over her chest. _

_"That's not funny, Greg." But she couldn't completely mask her smile. Sam on the other hand was completely serious. _

_"Doubt it was him. Probably wasn't a bear either…" _

_"Sam… lighten up. It was a joke." Greg said, giving Sam a weird look. Jessica grabbed Sam's arm. _

_"Babe, if you're really that worried about studying, just go back. I'll explain to Becky why you missed her performance with the Dollies, she'll totally understand." Jessica said sarcastically. _

_"I'm going." Sam whispered and looked back at Greg as they walked away. "We're going to the City tomorrow, right?" _

_"Totally." Greg yelled back. "Dude, meet me at Stern Dining Hall tomorrow and we'll grab some breakfast and go." _

_Sam and Jessica walked mostly in silence through the Farm and Sam slowing wrapped his arm around her when they heard a scream and she flinched. _

_"Sounds like someone is doing their Primal Scream a little early." She joked. Sam nodded and kissed the top of her head. _

_As they walked past one of the fraternities, the door opened. "Hey, Sammy!" It was Zack and he was totally wasted. "Want to stop for a beer?" He asked. _

_"Shouldn't you be at the game?" Jessica yelled back. Zack shrugged. "Becky is going to castrate you for missing this." _

_"She'll get over it." Zack slurred. "Come on, sobers, we got EANABs in here for ya too." Sam smiled. _

_"Thanks but no thanks, bud. We have to go the game." Sam explained, a little disappointed. It wasn't everyday he got invited to an upperclass fraternity party. _

_Jessica grabbed his arm. "You know, I could go for a beer." _

_They never made it to the game. _

- - -

Sam jerked away when the phone rang. He slapped his hand on the desk blindly, still mostly asleep.

He found the phone and pressed it to his ear. "Hello?" No answer, just another ring. "Oh, come on, Sam…" He opened the phone and then answered. "Hello?"

"Hey, Sam… this is Big Louie. Is your brother around?" The man on the other end asked. "I can't seem to reach him on his cell phone." Sam frowned, knowing it probably showed in his tone.

"No, he just left…" Sam meant to say "for work" but something he liked to call common sense, not common curiosity, stopped him. He picked up the silver pen that lay on the table and began to doodle on the surface, hell, it was junk anyway.

"Oh, well I just wanted to let him know that I've got his final paycheck down here and he can come collect it whenever he wants. Also, I moved the Impala to that storage place he wanted." He paused. "Oh, and I wrote him a recommendation. He's a good mechanic when he shows up."

"When he shows up?" Sam asked, dropping the pen back to the table. Louie sighed on the other end.

"Your brother, he's a good worker, really skilled with his hands, especially when it comes to cars. But he's always gone. I had to let him go, it was getting ridiculous. And all those injuries, I don't know what you're brother does after work… but whatever it is you should tell him to quit it. Lord knows I told him enough." He paused. "And he's been kinda… scatterbrained lately, he almost raised up a car yesterday before putting the brakes on. Coulda killed himself and a lotta others." Louie sighed. "If it woulda been anyone else, I would have suspected drug use, but not your brother, he's not dumb enough for that."

"I wouldn't doubt it." Sam whispered.

"What was that?"

"When did you fire him?" Sam asked.

"He didn't tell you?" Louie sounded genuinely surprised that Dean would keep something like that from his little brother, a man he talked about with such respect.

"Not yet." Sam admitted.

"Sam, I fired your brother damn near two weeks ago." Louie said softly. "Maybe he's got a new job now…"

"Maybe." But Sam doubted it. "Thanks for calling, Louie. I'll give him your message. I appreciate you being honest with me."

"'Course… now, you two look after each other."

"Will do. Goodbye Louie."

"Take care, bye Sam."

They hung up and Sam resisted the urge to throw the phone at the wall as hard as he could.

_Damn you, Dean. _

So, if he hadn't been out late at work for the past two weeks, where the hell had be been? And what was that about being scatterbrained?

Drug use? Dean? No way. It wasn't even an option… right?

Of course not.

What about those injuries then? What were they from?

Sam was so angry, and that pesky pressure growing in the back of his head was not helping one little bit.

And the more he thought about it, the angrier he got and the more the pressure spread.

When he'd finally reached an all time high level of hysteria where he depicted Dean out late, shooting up heroin with topless dancers on his lap, the pain had reached that spot between his eyes, you know, the worst place for a headache to go.

Sam clutched his head and stared intently at the table, willing the pain away. His eyes drifted to the pen he'd been using to doodle on the table while he'd been talking to Louie.

It felt like his head was going to split in two. He finally let out a cry, a manly one of course, and the pen flew across the room, hitting the wall with a dull thud and landing harmlessly on the carpet.

Harmless… right.

"Who the hell am I?" Sam whispered and pointedly ignored the flying pen (there are just some places the mind refuses to go, like when you discover you're a freak, not a good place to go) and opened his laptop, this time searching for something else, or someone else rather.

Sam Winchester.

Dean Winchester.

John Winchester.

- - -

The door opened late that night.

Sam looked up from the desk, his eyes thankful for the change of scenery. He'd been staring at that obiterary for the last hour at least.

His legs were crossed, cradeling the portable computer in his lap—like it's supposed to be—and his head rested in his cupped left hand, the elbow of which rested on the table.

The light of the computer shining on his face only accentuated the very obvious frown he wore.

Dean crept in slowly, making the least noise he could. He turned his back to Sam, oblivious of his presence and shut the door slowly and softly, wincing at the small clicking noise it made as it closed. He sighed and leaned against the door, resting momentarily.

When he went to push off, he grunted and fell back against it.

Drunk, Sam figured.

"I'm awake, Dean." Sam said loudly, the noise echoing in the silent room and thoroughly startling his older brother. Dean flinched and couldn't quite bite off the small gasp of surprise.

He whirled around, a very guilty grin on his face. "Oh Sammy, hey… I didn't see you there." He explained, pointing lazily. "How are you?"

Sam just shook his head. "Don't." He ordered. "Where have you been?" Sam asked. Dean looked at him, then nodded pointedly at the calendar.

"We went over this, I had work."

"Oh really?" Sam asked, his eyebrows raised. Dean nodded.

"Yeah, really." Dean mocked Sam's tone. "What? You know something I should, Sammy boy?"

"Like how you got fired?" Sam asked. And Dean Winchester deflated.

"Oh… that."

"Yeah, that." Sam said angrily. "Louie called me to tell me that he has your final paycheck. He also said some other interesting things, like how you never showed up, and when you did, you were totally out of it…" Sam crossed his arms. "He was thinking you were on drugs or something. What is going on, Dean?"

"Just leave it, Sam." Dean said tiredly, sitting down on the end of the nearest bed, which turned out to be Sam's.

"No, Dean. What is going on with you?" Sam yelled. Dean looked at him for a moment and Sam saw how glassy his eyes were.

"Fine, Sam, okay? I got fired. I gore fired because I'm a no good screw up and I can't do anything right. Is that what you wanted to hear?" Dean yelled, getting to his feet. Sam rolled his eyes.

"Don't be ridiculous." He shook his head. "I just want to know where you've been going, why you've got all those injuries and what is causing those headaches, because damn it Dean, work isn't an excuse anymore."

Dean groaned. "Leave me alone, Sam." He said softly. "I'm tired, and I want to take a shower." He headed towards the bathroom, but Sam grabbed his arm.

"No, Dean. We're going to talk about everything. I get that you don't think I remember enough to understand… but I remember enough to know that the way you're acting is not you." Sam paused to look at his brother. Dean's was clenched tightly and he was staring at Sam's hand, blinking as if to ward away tears. "Dean?" Sam asked worriedly, squeezing Dean's arm.

With that, Dean winced. "Leggo my arm." He whispered in a strained voice. Sam looked down and gasped, dropping his brother's arm immediately and involuntarily taking a step back.

Dean's entire shirt sleeve was red, and the stain was growing. How Sam hadn't seen it before…

"Dean!" Sam cried and guided his brother to the bed. "What the hell happened?" He asked. Dean grimaced as his little brother forced his shirt over his head.

"Would you believe I got in a nasty fight with a rake?" Dean asked with a grin. Sam shook his head and glared.

"This isn't funny." Sam whispered. He stared at the wound. "Christ…" There were three large parallel gashes running diagonally from Dean's left shoulder, over his collarbone, over his sternum, over his ribs and through his right bicep, like something had sliced him on the run.

They were deep enough to need stitches, all three, but none were deep enough to be fatal, just painful.

"They look worse than they feel." Dean whispered softly, attempting to soothe his brother. Sam sat down next to him and stared, mouth agape.

"I uh," he cleared his throat. "I need to dress them." He stammered, completely in shock, running on an unfamiliar yet somehow comforting autopilot.

"Sam, I can do that." Dean started to get up, but Sam shoved him back down. Actually shoved him, but neither of them said anything. Not a "sorry" for a Sam, or a "what the hell?" from Dean. Just a twice as painful silence.

"No, I'll do it. Just sit down." Sam insisted. He got up and got the first aide kit from Dean's bag. Dean didn't remember ever telling his brother where it was kept… or re-telling him rather.

"Weird thing is, Dean." Sam whispered as he got out the necessary items. "All this seems normal, familiar almost." He turned to Dean with the gauze and cleaning alcohol.

"Oh yeah?" Dean asked, eyes never meeting his brother's. Sam nodded.

"Yeah." And Sam knew he'd be waiting for ever if he asked his brother for an explanation why he knew exactly how to do what he was about to. "This will be easier if you lie down." Dean smirked.

"Watch what you say there, little brother." Dean teased.

"Just do it, Dean." The youngest brother demanded exasperatedly.

"Yes, Sir." Dean laid back and set about cleaning the cuts and stitching them, and then bandaging the wounds. Everything felt like second nature to him.

"So, I don't suppose you're going to tell me what really happened." Sam muttered as he cleaned up. Dean was still lying shirtless on the bed, one leg hanging off the side, his arms thrown over his eyes.

Dean nodded, pointing at him. "Hey!" He said excitedly with a smile. "You'd be right with that one." Then he let his hands fall back on his face.

"Dean, I knew how to stitch that up…" Sam whispered. "I wasn't studying to be a Doctor, so why the hell do I know how to do that?" Sam asked.

"Because you're a smart kid, Sam." Dean explained tiredly. "Do you have to question everything? Next you'll be asking me why I'm shorter than you. It's because the world is a cruel and messed up place and you needed that height advantage to make up for all your other disadvantages."

"I'm being serious here Dean." Sam said angrily and sat down on the opposite bed. He let his head fall forward. "Dean… I moved a pen today."

Dean lifted up onto his elbows, grunting as the action pulled at his stitches. "Like you threw it or something, right?" And the tremor in his voice clued Sam into the fact that Dean knew exactly what he meant.

Sam lifted his head and shook his head once. "Without touching it." He whispered. Dean closed his eyes and laid back down. "With my mind, Dean! My mind!" He cried.

"I heard you the first time, alright Sam. I heard you. Just let me think for a second." Dean whispered. Sam got off his bed and sat down next to Dean. "Sam, I need to think, without you sitting on top of me."

"Who are we, Dean?" Sam asked softly.

"Sam and Dean Winchester." Dean explained, opening his eyes to look at him. "You think I lied to you about who we are?"

"Well then, according to a St. Louis obituary, you're dead. Not only that, but you're a murderer."

"That was a misunderstanding." Dean explained, closing his head again. God, the headaches were just getting worse.

"So you have a twin who died in St. Louis, who was suspected of murder?" Sam yelled.

"You so you don't trust me all the sudden Sam?" Dean yelled. "Before I left, you said I was the only person you had left…"

"And you said I was going to lose you!" Sam yelled back and got to his feet. "You could have died tonight, Dean. And I wouldn't have even known. Did you think about that? Did you even think about me when you went out there doing whatever? If you would have died I would have spent possibly years wondering what happened until some shmuck ran across your remains. I'm going to be the one to bury you Dean, so just tell me what is going to kill you so I know what to blame and then find and tear apart!" His voice cracked and he tried his hardest to keep his eyes on Dean, and not to cry. But he failed both and let his head fall forward.

He knew it sounded selfish, but damn, he was scared out of what little of his mind he had left. If Dean had died… he would have been lost. Sam might have never known what happened to him.

"Look, Sammy… I messed up tonight. It won't happen again." Dean got up, albeit slowly and painfully, but he got up. He grabbed Sam's shoulders and squeezed them. "I'm not going anywhere." He smiled. "You're stuck with me."

"Tell me where you were…" Sam begged.

"Hunting." Dean whispered. "I was hunting. No drop it, okay Sam?"

"What…"

"Leave it alone!" Dean yelled and then doubled over groaning, pressing a hand to his chest, where the cuts burned the most. "Sonofabitch."

"Dean." Sam whispered and grabbed his arm.

But emotions were high and that electrical after shock that clung to Sam like static cling helped send Dean into darkness with a weak cry.

"Dean!" Sam yelped and caught his brother before he hit the ground, just barely. Taken by surprise and not quite ready to deal with the weight, Sam sent them both slowly to the ground. He pulled his brother to his body and let Dean's back rest against his chest, his head tipped back on his shoulder. "Oh Christ, Dean I'm sorry… I don't know… I didn't'…" He hugged Dean softly and rested his face against Dean's hair. "I'm sorry." He whispered.

Dean stirred weakly and groaned. "It's not your fault, Sam." Dean whispered.

"Dean, are you okay?" Sam asked.

"Headache." Dean whispered.

"What can I do to help?" Sam asked, standing slowly and bringing Dean with him. Dean whimpered. "I'm sorry." Sam whispered. "I'm just going to put you to bed." He laid Dean on the bed and took off his shoes and tugged off his jeans, leaving Dean in just his boxers. He tucked him in. "What can I do?"

"Turn off the lights." Dean whispered. Sam ran to the light switch and turned off every light in the room. "Sam…" Dean whispered.

"Yeah." Sam hurried to Dean's side and placed a hand on his brother's arm. Dean swallowed.

"I have… I have some morphine in my bag…"

"Morphine… Dean?" Sam asked, alarmed.

"Please, Sam." Dean whispered, hating himself. He was supposed to stay strong for Sam, not beg for drugs. And here he was, about to admit his weakness. "I can handle these headaches…"

"I'm going to take you to the hospital…"

"No!" Dean cried and winced.

"Dean! You're hurt… there's something wrong with you and I can't help you."

"Yes you can, get the morphine." Dean whispered. Sam sighed and caved. He went to the bathroom and got the syringe and small vial from Dean's bag.

"How did you ever get this?" Sam asked as he readied the small dose. Dean grinned.

"I've got connections." He whispered. Sam snorted and tapped the syringe with his finger and then expelled any air bubbles. He grabbed Dean's arm and flipped it over. He tried to ignore all the little marks from previous injections. There were so many. Dean's arm resembled that of a junkie's.

Sam inserted the needle into Dean's vein and injected the medicine. "Thanks, Sam."

Sam nodded and sat down, watching Dean as the drugs took over. His body relaxed and he drifted off to sleep.

Sam bit at his thumbnail angrily, just watching his brother because he could think of nothing else.

- - -

"I'm here to see John Winchester, my brother."

"Name?"

"Roman Winchester."

"Visiting hours are almost over."

"I just need to see him."

"Down that hall, fifth on your right. Number 245."

"Thank you."

- - -

"Good evening John." Aimee said with a smile as she walked into John Winchester's room. "I saw your boys earlier, how was that?"

"Fine." One of the few words John could say.

"You're one attractive family, if you don't mind my saying so." She set up his dinner tray and smiled at the slight blush on his cheeks. "I brought you some nice Jell-O and other foods you can sip through straws."

"Cr.. ees." John stammered. Aimee frowned and leaned closer to his face.

"What?" She asked softly.

"Cristo." He whispered. Aimee whipped her head towards him and he managed to smile, though only one side of his mouth worked, as her eyes turned black. "Got ya."

Aimee sighed and shrugged. "You did. You caught me." She walked over to the wall, where his monitor and other assorted—needed—equipment sat. "Too bad you lose." She whispered and then pulled the plug. She walked over to John's side and planted a kiss on his forehead. "I'm so going to enjoy ripping apart your oldest, and then calling your baby my husband."

Then she turned and walked out.

- - -

"Oh, excuse me." Roman stepped out of the way of the nurse as she left John's room in a hurry. She saw him, looked a little startled, but then kept walking. "Like the manners." He said softly and then opened the door.

John was lying on the bed, looking pointedly at the wall, where the wire to his heart monitor and respirator lay on the ground.

"Not good." Roman whispered to himself and hurried over to plug it back in. "John, what happened?" Roman asked.

"Nurse." John explained. "Demon."

"That nurse was a demon?" Roman asked. John nodded once, looking at the door where Aimee was looking in the small window.

"Meg."

- - -

**STANFORD "Lingo" **

**Big Game - **The annual football matchup against rival Berkeley. Traditionally it's the last, most highly anticipated football game of the season.

**Fountain Hopping - **A common activity after football games.

**ASSU - **Associated Students of Stanford University. The student government.**The Claw** - Nickname for the fountain in White Plaza, between the Bookstore and Old Union.

**RA - **Resident Assistant. The truly dedicated upperclass student who lives in dorms and serves roles ranging from dorm activity coordinator to advisor, confidant and friend.

**Co Ho - **The Coffee House. A place for late-night java, music, backgammon, studying and beer (for those over 21).

**Dead Week - **The week immediately preceding finals week. It is intended that students study feverishly during this week.

**The Daily** - Stanford students' independent newspaper.

**PAA - **Peer Advising Associate. Upperclass academic mentors who are invaluable source of information to freshmen about planning which classes to take.

**The Zoo - **KZSU, 90.1 FM, Stanford's student radio station.

**Dollies - **The five spirited women who accompany the Stanford Band with dance routines.

**The City - **Known as San Francisco to non-Bay Area residents, it's the cultural center of the Bay Area and popular with students when they want to get off campus.

**Stern Dining Hall -** Open weeknights until 1 a.m. for students in search of a late-night snack.

**Primal Scream - **Tradition of stress alleviation for students. Listen for it at midnight the Sunday night of Dead Week.

**EANABs -** Equally attractive non-alcoholic beverages. Required at campus parties serving alcohol.

**Now, leave me a nice message and show me you love it. Seriously, I want 19 reviews, one for each page this chapter was on Word. **


	16. Teaser and apologies

Sorry, sorry, sorry, so SORRY!

Its been way too long since I posted and its going to be a bit longer. For anyone whose read Do or Die, you kinda know why.

Well, now the sequel won't leave me alone. So needless to say, there is little time for this story.

But I promise, it is not ending and I'm not leaving it behind. Oh no. Not until its completed.

But I am putting it on hiatus for a while, at least until I finish the sequel to Do or Die (right now tentatively titled "Let Me Fall").

Thanks to all of you who read, and I'm so so so sorry.

If you stick with me, I'll send you virtual hugs and cookies, because who doesn't love those?

Oh, and a little teaser for y'all as well. : ) Enjoy

_Dean gasped loudly as he came back to himself and flew into a coughing fit. Sam was right there with water and a hand on his back. _

_"What the hell just happened?" Sam yelled angrily. Dean shook his head and took a slow sip of the water. _

_"I… I don't know." He whispered. _

_"Don't lie to me, Dean! You just had some sort of… attack or something. Don't sit there and lie to me!" _

_"I'm not lying, Sam!" Dean yelled. "I don't know what happened, all right?" He wiped at his nose. _

_Damn, like he needed a cold on top of everything. _

_But his hand wasn't covered in snot, like he had unpleasantly expected. Instead, there was a streak of red across the back of his hand. _

_Not good. _

_Dean looked at his brother who was staring at the blood on Dean's hand. "Come on." Sam whispered gruffly, helping Dean out of bed. "I need to go talk to Dad." _

_"He speaks in single syllables, Sam. What answers could he possibly give you?" _

_"More than you've given me." Sam said coldly as he grabbed his coat and put it on. "Grab your coat and meet me at the car." _

_Sam left angrily and Dean sighed heavily. _

_Not only was his "plan" falling apart… it seemed like maybe he was too. _

_And that vision? What a bitch first of all, it felt like his head was broken in two. The worst part? _

_Aimee was in danger. _

I hope that can tide you all over for a while.

Oh, and if you thought Do or Die was a tearjerker... I almost cried making notes for the sequel while on my trip. lol. I'm way overly emotional lately for some personal reasons... and its coming out on my writing. And if this Friday ends up being the worst day of my life (which it more than 90 likely is going to be) expect more and more tragic one shots. It will keep me from doing stupid things.

So, please, please, please be patient with me. I'm trying, I promise.

(hugs) Kena


	17. Ch 14: Over and Out

So, we're getting closer to Season 2 and I really wish I could stop reading spoilers. I always get angry when they don't go my way. Lol. Like this Jo character. (You know who I mean if you're a spoiler reader.) I don't think I shall like her.

Anyway, I know I put this on hiatus… and technically it still is. But I'm home sick today, and I'm in a writing mood. So, here it is. And I tried to catch my errors, but I probably missed a lot. Sorry in advance.

Leave me a nice review, por favor.

Gracias.

**Chapter Fourteen: Over and Out**

_**Let me fall apart**_

_**Crippled in your arms**_

_**Chase me through the dark**_

_**Ready on your mark**_

_**First to reach the stars**_

_**Wins a broken heart**_

_**One that broke apart**_

_**Shattered from the start**_

_**Are you there?**_

_**Do you read me?**_

_**Are you there?**_

_**I don't feel you anymore**_

- - -

_"Two brothers torn apart by Chaos, while the fortress endures, the great leader will succumb." _Nostradamus

- - -

Sam got up late, it was almost eleven. Dean was still asleep. Sam watched the steady rise and fall of his brother's chest for nearly two minutes before he decided it was safe to look away and Dean wouldn't suddenly stop breathing.

He tried to fix breakfast as quietly as he could. But sure enough, the nearly silent crack of an egg was enough to rouse Dean from his sleep.

"Morning sunshine." Sam whispered with a grin. Dean groaned back and covered his eyes with his arm. "How's your head?"

"Bearable." Dean grunted. "Dude… I feel fuzzy." He explained. Sam nodded.

"That will happen when you take morphine." Sam walked over to him with a plate of bland eggs and toast. "Breakfast."  
"That's going to come right back up." Dean said distastefully.

"You have to try to eat, Dean. I'm not going to let you have anymore morphine if you don't eat. You'll get even sicker."

"Dude… if you've got me on drug watch."

"Dean, you had enough drugs to fell an elephant in your bag. You're under a drug microscope right now." Sam snapped. "And if what happened last night happens again," Sam violently stabbed at the eggs and then handed the fork to his brother motioning with his head to "eat the damn eggs" and sighed. "Then we're going to the hospital, no arguments." Dean looked at the eggs distastefully before forcing them into his mouth, chewing twice and swallowing.

"Okay Sam." Dean muttered.

"And I want to go talk to Dad." And Sam began to list his demands. "I want to know about St. Louis and why you're apparently dead and buried there."

"Okay Sam." Dean softly, waging a war of wits against the eggs that didn't want to stay on his fork.

"And you're going to let me help you when you need it." Sam ordered and snatched the fork from Dean.

"I'm not an invalid."

"I know you're not. You're sick. Everyone needs help sometimes, Dean. You taught me my life again, the least I can do is help you with whatever it is you're going through."

Dean stared at his little brother. Not so little anymore. Sammy—Sam—was acting like a man. Taking complete control and leaving no room for arguments what so ever.

"Okay Sam." Dean agreed. "But please, can I feed myself?" He asked with a grin. Sam closed his eyes and smiled weakly, letting his head fall forward.

He was so damn tired. Emotionally and physically.

"Yeah." He handed his brother back the fork. Dean smiled softly and slowly began to feed himself.

Sam got off the bed and laid down on his own. "Tired?" Dean asked. Sam nodded, his eyes closed, his hands over his face. "Why don't you take a nap?" Sam opened his eyes and turned to his brother.

"Promise you'll still be here when I wake up?" He asked, sincerely. Dean nodded and winced suddenly, bringing his hands to his head. Sam sat up. "Dean?"

Dean groaned. "My head.." He bent at the waist and clutched his head between his hands.

"Dean!" Sam yelled and hurried to Dean's bed. He sat down and gripped Dean's shoulders roughly. "Dean! What's going on? Talk to me!"

Dean jerked away from Sam's touch, reeling back against the wall. He stared at Sam blankly, but breathing heavily.

_"No stop!" She screamed. "Get away from me!" She was running, fast and hard, her long blonde hair trailing out behind her. _

_A hand reached out at grabbed it, and she stopped with a scream and her hands flew to her head to keep the hair from parting ways with her scalp. _

_"Please!" She begged. "Just let me go!" _

_"But I want you so badly." Her captor whispered and in one swift moment he brought a knife to her throat and cut open the skin, reaching the artery and the jugular in one swift movement. _

_She was dead before she even realized it. _

Dean gasped loudly as he came back to himself and flew into a coughing fit. Sam was right there with water and a hand on his back.

"What the hell just happened?" Sam yelled angrily. Dean shook his head and took a slow sip of the water.

"I… I don't know." He whispered.

"Don't lie to me, Dean! You just had some sort of… attack or something. Don't sit there and lie to me!"

"I'm not lying, Sam!" Dean yelled. "I don't know what happened, all right?" He wiped at his nose.

Damn, like he needed a cold on top of everything.

But his hand wasn't covered in snot, like he had unpleasantly expected. Instead, there was a streak of red across the back of his hand.

Not good.

Dean looked at his brother who was staring at the blood on Dean's hand. "Come on." Sam whispered gruffly, helping Dean out of bed. "I need to go talk to Dad."

"He speaks in single syllables, Sam. What answers could he possibly give you?"

"More than you've given me." Sam said coldly as he grabbed his coat and put it on. "Grab your coat and meet me at the car."

Sam left angrily and Dean sighed heavily.

Not only was his "plan" falling apart… it seemed like maybe he was too.

And that vision? What a bitch first of all, it felt like his head was broken in two. The worst part?

Aimee was in danger.

(**A/N:** One of my amazing readers brought it to my attention that I made an error in mentioning the Impala. I haven't gotten around to editing last chapter, but I edited my copy to read "The old Mustang Big Louie had lent them. So that's their car.)

- - -

Sam opened the door slowly and smiled widely when he saw his father was awake. "Hey, Dad."

"Sam." John said with a smile.

The youngest Winchester walked to the side of his father's bed and rested his hand on his father's arm. "The doctors tell me you're making some major improvements in therapy." Sam said proudly.

"Talking better." John explained. Sam nodded.

"I can tell. No more stammering they tell me."

"Mostly."

"Hey Dad…" Sam sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "This is going to sound really… weird… and maybe it's a total fluke or something… but why is there a death certificate for Dean in St. Louis?" Sam asked with large eyes.

John looked at his son for a while, frowning. "Read my journal." He explained. Sam's frown matched his father's. "You'll get answers."

- - -

"How is he?" Dean asked when Sam walked out of John's hospital room. Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Oh, so now you care?" Sam asked. Dean pushed off the wall and followed his brother as they walked down the halls.

"Of course I do. Jesus Sam, what's your problem?" Dean asked.

"You. You and your secrets… and why the hell won't you talk to Dad, huh? Are you afraid he's going to shed light on what you're hiding?" Sam was angry. Beyond angry.

"Sam… you don't know what's going on. Watch what you say, okay?" Dean tried to remain calm.

"Don't tell me to watch it, Dean." Sam snapped. "And you're right, I have no flipping clue as to what is going on. So why don't you tell me?" Sam asked, staring into his brother's hazel eyes.

"I need to find Aimee." Dean whispered and started to walk off. Sam grabbed his wrist and yanked him back around.

"Where is Dad's journal?" Sam asked. Dean pulled his wrist away.

"Don't touch me, Sam." Dean warned.

"Where. Is. It?" Sam hissed. Dean narrowed his eyes.

"What do you need it for?"

"Dad wanted me to get it for him."

"It burned up in the accident." Dean explained and then walked off.

"I'm going back to the hotel!" Sam yelled as Dean kept walking. Dean waved a hand in the air. "I'm leaving!"

"Go right ahead, Sam." Dean yelled back and then turned the corner. Sam sighed heavily and walked out to the parking lot.

He waited in the car a full twenty minutes, but Dean never came.

- - -

Dean smiled and knocked on the door softly. The blonde turned around and smiled widely when she saw him.

"Hey beautiful." He whispered.

"Let me finish feeding little Riley here his Jell-O and I'll be right over." Aimee whispered and ran her free hand over the little blonde boy's head.

He was in the recovery wing of the children's floor. Dean didn't have to look hard to see what was wrong.

He was bald, and even with that unfaltering smile, Dean could tell he was sick and getting sicker fast.

"Lucky man. A beautiful woman and my favorite, strawberry Jell-O." Dean teased. Riley smiled widely. "I bet you're sticking around just for that, huh?" He whispered. "You faker." Riley giggled and shrugged shyly.

Aimee looked at Dean and smiled.

Those Winchester men were sure made pretty.

"Don't encourage him, Dean. With a face like that, he doesn't need a ploy. He can flash those pearly whites and get any little girl he wants." Aimee said certainly. "If you were a few years older."

"Hey, watch it now. I might have to fight him for you. I don't want to get my butt kicked today." Dean interrupted.

Riley laughed louder and Dean couldn't help but smile widely.

"Well, when you're finished feeding Champ here his dessert, meet me outside, okay?" Dean asked.

Aimee nodded and Dean winked and waved goodbye to Riley.

He waited outside the door, leaning against the wall, for about two minutes before she came outside and pressed against him.

He grunted and she pulled back. "What?" She asked, alarmed. Dean grinned unconvincingly.

"Work accident." He lied breathlessly. Aimee pouted.

"Oh, baby." She ran her hand down his cheek.

Gag, much?

"Let me see." She demanded. Dean shook his head.

"Naw, its pretty gross." He said softly, feeling his stomach knot.

"I'm a nurse, Dean. Believe me, I've seen worse." She assured him. Her expression was all he needed as proof. She grabbed his arm. "Let's just go into an empty room and I'll take a look." She pulled him across the hall and locked the door behind them.

"Um… it looks occupied to me." Dean said softly, nodding towards the bagged body on the gurney. Aimee smiled.

"I don't think he'll mind." She whispered and grabbed his shirt, lifting it before he could protest. She gasped and let the shirt fall back down.

"Yeah… gross." Dean said with a meek smile.

"Dean. How… what? Oh my god." She whispered and lifted his shirt back up. "I thought you were a mechanic, not a lion tamer."

"It was more a recreational injury." Dean clarified.

"Doing what? Juggling machetes?" She sighed. "Well, at least you went to a hospital. Though, the stitching job is slightly shoddy…"

"Sam did it." Dean blurted. Aimee raised an eyebrow.

"Sam? Your brother?"

"Yeah. He just pushed me on the bed and went to town." Dean teased, but Aimee was clearly not in the mood for jokes.

"Why does he know how to do something like that?"

"I juggle machetes a lot."

"This isn't funny, Dean. You could have gotten killed."

"But I didn't."

"Well thank God." She snapped and then covered her face. Dean sighed and wrapped an arm around her. "I'm not the only one you would have left behind, Dean. Did you even think about Sam? About your father?"

"Everything I do, is for them." Dean answered. "It was just… I got careless."

"I'm not even going to ask." She whispered and pulled away. "Well, besides the obvious, why did you come to see me?"

"This is going to sound weird…"

"I'm pretty much open to everything at the moment." She muttered, staring at his chest.

"But I think you're in danger."

- - -

Sam slammed the door behind him, ignoring the cheap picture frame that fell off the wall and shattered.

He threw his bag on the nearest bed and then threw himself down after it.

He was so pissed.

No, pissed didn't even cover it.

What was Dean hiding?

Why didn't he want Sam reading that journal?

What was so bad that he couldn't see it?

Yeah… well screw him.

That's right.

He said it.

Screw Dean.

He was going to find the journal, and read it too.

Sam got up off the bed and froze.

Where to look?

He had no clue.

None.

Okay, so his gusto wasn't very realistic, but at least he had the drive… right?

Sam sighed and sat back down.

He chewed on his lower lip while he thought of the possible hiding places. It'd be somewhere close. Somewhere easily assessable.

And Dean tended to be absent minded, if things got moved from their normal places, he'd go crazy or forget about them all together.

Sam smiled and looked over at Dean's bed. He got up and lifted his brother's pillow.

Success.

Right next to his brother's prized knife was the journal.

"Well that was easy." Sam whispered to himself and sat down on the bed. He opened the first page.

_I went to Missouri and I learned the truth. _

The truth came at Sam like a speeding locomotive and knocked him on his ass.

- - -

That hadn't exactly gone according to plan.

Dean reached up and rubbed at his sore cheek. Once Aimee had stopped freaking out, she'd slapped him, pretty damn hard too.

Gees, all he was doing was trying to save her life.

And now he was walking back to the hotel room, all alone, in the dark, in the cold, with a stinging cheek.

Damn…

_"What are you… some kind of witch or something?" Aimee had nearly screamed, backing against the wall. Yeah, he'd made the mistake of telling another girl the truth. _

_And you wonder why he lies to women? _

_"What? No… I just… I have these dreams… and they… sometimes they come true." Dean explained, remembering the way Sam had explained them. _

_"You're crazy." _

_He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting… but this wasn't it. _

_"Aimee, you gotta listen to me. I think someone is going to try to hurt you." _

_"Get away from me." She yelled and tried to walk past him, but Dean grabbed her arm. She whirled around and slapped him hard. "Don't touch me!" She screamed and then ran out of the room. _

Dean sighed and flipped up his collar to block the chill of the night air.

"Just call Sam." He whispered to himself. "He'll come get you." But Dean was just too dang stubborn and proud for that.

He fingered the phone in his pocket, but didn't take it out.

Only a few more miles to the motel.

Scratch that.

He must have been walking fast… really fast.

Because he swore he could see the lights of the motel all ready.

Strange.

A sharp pain ran up the back of his head and he stumbled.

_Crap… _

Those weren't lights. Well… not technically.

He was having another vision.

A bad one.

Dean grabbed his phone and flipped it open, he had to hurry. A flash of pictures and noise hit him so hard he dropped the phone. He groaned and closed his eyes tightly, trying to ward it away.

He knelt down and grabbed the phone, which had all ready been calling Sammy.

"Dean!" Sam was yelling. "Dean!" The older Winchester wondered just how long Sam had been sitting there listening to nothing, yelling his name.

"Sam… I need you to come get me." Dean whispered brokenly, trying to keep control of the pain.

"What's wrong? Where are you? You hurt?" Sam was talking a mile a minute and Dean knew he was running out to the car all ready.

"I… I don't know…" Dean admitted and winced.

"What's going on?" Sam asked worriedly and Dean heard the car start in the back ground.

Dean didn't answer, he just breathed into the phone. Sam sighed.

"Listen to me, Dean." He said softly. "You have to look around, give me some landmarks so I can find you, okay?"

Dean looked around, squinting at the non existent light that seemed to be frying his corneas.

"Um… there's a billboard… for… Christ, Sam. My head." Dean closed his eyes as the world spun.

"Okay, a billboard. Dean, what's on it?" Sam asked, his heart pounding in his chest. "Dean?"

"Um… it's blue… and… three of the lights are out."

It was a wonder Sam didn't get in an accident. He drove the whole time looking for billboards, not paying a moments notice to the road.

"Okay, Dean. Keep talking to me, okay? Stay on the phone."

"I'm sorry, Sammy." Dean whispered and Sam felt his stomach flip.

"For what, Dean?"

"For lying to you, this whole time… I shoulda… I shoulda told you everything."

Dean was cold.

No.

He was freaking freezing.

A Dean Winchester Popsicle.

He was shivering and he was pretty sure the world had gone horizontal without his permission and the wet ground was starting to seep into his clothes.

Somehow he had managed to keep hold on the phone.

To Sam.

"It's all right, Dean. You can tell me everything later." Sam assured him. "Dean! I see the billboard."

"Good Sam." Dean whispered tiredly.

"Can you wave me down?" Sam asked eagerly. He needed to find his brother, and needed to find him now.

"I'm down." Dean said vaguely.

"I'm getting out of the car." Sam took a deep breath. "Dean, hang up the phone and I'm going to call it and follow the sound of the ringer."

"'Kay." Dean shut the phone and gave into the vision.

- - -

Sam's hands were shaking so badly he almost missed the SEND button. He listening intently, praying Dean hadn't put his phone on silent or vibrate.

Apparently, God was listening because he could hear the ringer clear as day. He ran towards the noise and saw Dean, shaking on the ground and nearly stumbled.

He froze and stared for a minute, recognizing his brother's fit for what it was. A vision, though it was far worse than any they'd ever experienced or seen.

"Dean!" Sam yelled and ran to his brother's side, hesitant to touch him. "Dean…" Sam whispered this time and dropped to his knees.

Dean's eyes were closed tightly and he was thrashing about, fighting something only he could see. Every so often he'd release a small cry, and each time Sam broke a little more.

They were so anguished. But not with physical pain. Dean sounded like he was weeping… like his heart was shattering.

"Sammy." He sobbed brokenly.

Sam grasped Dean's hand strongly.

His brother neither acknowledged the touch nor pulled away.

"Dean, I'm here. I'm right here." Sam assured his brother softly.

"No… leave him alone." Dean begged.

Sam touched Dean's face and his brother flinched away at first.

"Dean. I'm here. It's Sammy."

He moved into Sam's hand and Sam smiled softly. "You're okay. I'm okay. It's okay." Dean whimpered and his back arched slightly.

"Stop… please…"

"It'll pass, Dean." Sam whispered, pulling Dean into his lap and apologizing under his breath as Dean gasped. "I know. I know." Sam whispered, stroking Dean's hair.

This was all so wrong.

He remembered everything now. He remembered the way Dean was… and this wasn't it. This wasn't the way Dean was supposed to be.

And these were his visions. How the hell had Dean gotten them?

He took a deep breath. "I know it hurts… but it'll pass."

- - -

_"It was your job, wasn't it? To protect him?" The demon-in-their-father's-form asked as he ripped Dean to shreds. _

_"You had one job. One! And you couldn't even do that, could you?" _

_"Where is my brother?" Dean gasped. _

_The demon smirked and shook his head. _

_"You don't wanna know." _

_"Where… is my brother?" Dean asked again. _

_"In hell." _

_"For your sake, I hope you're kidding." _

_"For your sake, you'd better hope I'm not. At least you'll have some company." _

_"We're going to kill you." _

_"Oh, silly, silly boy. Did you ever think you'd win? You can't be serious." The demon laughed. "Since the beginning I knew it'd come down to this. Do you really think I would have come after your family if I thought you could defeat me? I'd have killed Sam that night if that were true. You've been doomed since the beginning." He ran his hand down Dean's cheek. "Since the moment Samuel was conceived… things were destined to end this way. Your mother was going to die on the ceiling… your father would die a pathetic shell of a man, trying desperately to win a losing battle to save his sons. Sam… well, he's destined to be mine while you… well, Dean. You're just a bundle of surprises. In the beginning, you were meant to die with your mother. But you managed to escape that. We thought we had gotten rid of you so many times before that… with the electrocution, with the Daevas. But you've got a strength we can't touch." _

_The demon grinned. _

_"But you'd give anything to save your brother. You've said more than once that you'd die for him…" The demon stepped back. "And tonight, it's pay up time." _

_Sam stepped out of the shadows, grinning with eyes as black as night. _

_"Sammy." Dean gasped. "No… fight this. Don't let him take you." _

_Sam cocked his head to the side. "You're too late, Dean. I'm done running. I'm done fighting something that feels so right." _

_"You can't mean that. He killed Mom. He killed Jessica!" _

_Sam shrugged. "They were just in the way anyways." _

_"This isn't you… Sam…" _

_"Who are you to tell me what is and isn't me?" Sam roared, and before Dean could blink, Sam's hand was around his throat, lifting him off the ground. "You and Dad… you two told me who I was supposed to be. I never got to live my own life. This is what I want, and for once, I'm going for it." _

_Dean choked and fought wildly, and Sam laughed as his brother's struggles slowed and his eyes glazed over. _

_"Fine, Sam. If this is what you want. To kill your own brother. Just know, I still love you, little brother. And I'm not going to die until I fix this." _

_Sam's eyes flickered and Dean fell to the ground. _

_"No!" The demon roared and with a flick of his wrist threw Sam and Dean to opposite ends of the room. "Sam! Finish him!" _

_"I… I can't…" Sam admitted. _

_The demon sighed and turned his golden eyes to Dean. "You've just killed him." He whispered and then closed his fist. _

_Dean and Sam both cried out in pain, and before the world went black, Dean saw Sam fall. _

- - -

Sam leg was bouncing nervously. They'd taken Dean away from him nearly an hour ago and he hadn't heard anything yet.

And as cute as she was… that seven year old who was making goo-goo eyes at him was seriously starting to get on his nerves.

"Are you sick?" She asked him innocently. Sam shook his head, not taking his eyes off the two double doors at the end of the hall.

"My brother is." Sam explained. The girl nodded.

"Mine too." She whispered and climbed into the seat next to Sam. "He's got lookema." She explained. "He died today." She was still smiling and Sam looked over at her.

"I'm sorry…"

"But we woke him up. And took him here." She explained and Sam couldn't help but chuckle slightly. She laughed too, delighted with herself.

"You mean he passed out?"

She nodded. "He died."

"Oh, okay. But he's okay."

"No. He's really sick. And bald. He can't play with me anymore."

"I'm really sorry." Sam said honestly.

"People keep saying that. But it doesn't make anything better. It doesn't make Riley get out of bed. It doesn't make him get better."

Sam nodded and reached over to pat the little girl's head absently.

"I'm Kendal." She said and grabbed his hand, shaking it with both of hers.

"Sam." He said with a genuine smile.

"Does your brother have lookema too?"

"No… I don't know what's wrong." Sam admitted. "His head hurts."

"Mommy's head hurts. She's always taking medicine. It must hurt bad, she's always crying, and Daddy is always crying and telling her it will get better. I don't think it does." She sighed and looked down at her leather shoes. "I think Riley's lookema hurts her."

The doctor walked into the room, a young woman with brown hair pulled back in a knot at the nape of her neck. "Kendal, are you bugging this nice man?" She asked softly and then looked at Sam. "Kendal is one of our more frequent visitors. She always manages to escape from the daycare." She set the clipboard down and put her hands on her hips, trying to look angry, but Sam doubted her face could contort that way. She just looked too kind.

"Honey, didn't you promise your parents you'd stay put this time?" She asked. Kendal pouted and looked at Sam.

"He was watching me." She whined.

The doctor looked at Sam and smiled when he blushed. "I'm so sorry. I hope she wasn't bugging you."

Sam shook his head. "Naw, it was fine. She kept me company."

"Are you Sam O'Leary?" She asked, looking over at the clipboard. Sam nodded. "Would you like to come see your brother?"

Sam nodded and stood up.

"What about her?" He asked softly. The doctor smiled and looked over at Kendal.

"Come on sweetheart, I'm going to take Sam to his brother and then we'll bring you back to your friends at the fun room." She explained, holding out her hand. Kendal nodded and ran over, grasping her hand.

"I'm guessing you know her pretty well." Sam said softly. The doctor nodded and looked down at Kendal as the little girl skipped down the hall between them.

"Her family is around a lot. Her brother, Riley, almost lives here now." She lowered her voice. "He's stopped responding to treatment."

Sam flinched when Kendal's hand slipped into his. He looked down and she was smiling up at him.

"Swing me." She said happily, jumping up and down.

Sam looked at the doctor and she shrugged, still smiling. "If Sam is okay with it." She said.

The younger Winchester nodded hesitantly. "One. Two. Three." They swung their arms forward and Kendal nearly screamed in delight.

The doctor hushed her, though she was laughing. Sam too had to laugh, Kendal was just so joyous.

"Okay, that's enough. People are sleeping."

"Sorry, Jenny." Kendal whispered.

"Jenny, huh?" Sam asked. "It suits you."

"It's actually Jen, to most people. But if I get to call you Sammy, you have my permission to call me Jenny without me kicking you." Sam laughed. "What?"

"Oh, it's just I act the same way about my nickname."

"Funny how that is." Jen stopped and looked at Sam. "Well, here we are." They stopped outside a door and she took Dean's file out of the pocket.

"What's wrong with him?"

Jen sighed and looked at him, her smile long gone. "Sam…" she looked over at Kendal. "Sweetheart, go sit over there and wait for me, okay?" Kendal nodded, seemingly in tune to the sad situation. Jen looked back at Sam. "Well… I'm not really his doctor, but they filled me in… I… I've never seen this before, but I guess our hospital has dealt with one case before…" she was rambling and Sam couldn't help but notice how cute she was.

Hey… he does have a downstairs brain. Leave him alone.

"I'll try to explain it… basically, Dean's got a tear in his brainstem." She said quickly and watched Sam pale. She grabbed his arm. "It isn't as bad as it sounds. I can promise you he barely feels any pain and the worst side affect is bad circulation to his hands and feet. This tear, it's bleeding… not terribly, but its bleeding and that's not a good thing. There isn't mean to be blood in the places its going." She squeezed his arm softly. "So, there is this pouch of blood up there and its going to start pressing on his brain soon…"

"Can't they empty it… or remove it or something?" Sam asked. Jen tilted her head to the side.

"Sam… the surgery would kill him or leave him brain damaged." She shrugged. "If that's what you two decided to do, we can go ahead with the surgery. But it's not an option we're recommending."

"So… without this surgery… what are his chances?" Sam asked.

She didn't answer at first and Sam prepared himself for worse news. "He's got about two months."

"What? No. I mean… there has to be a chance…"

"There is about a four percent chance that someone can survive something like this unscathed."

"So… you're saying he's going to die?" Sam asked, his eyes stinging. Jen nodded.

"I'm so sorry, Sam."

Sam nodded and then disappeared into his brother's room.

Dean was dying…

Again.

And Sam was going to stop at nothing to fix it.

Again.


End file.
